


Wintersend

by Annemarie01



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, New love, Romance, fluff and sex, partly non canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 78,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annemarie01/pseuds/Annemarie01
Summary: Hawke has travelled to Skyhold for reasons that are not exactly clear, not even to herself.  One thing that stands out, however, is that irksome voice that's pestering her and she can't get rid of. As expected, Fenris isn't pleased at all. In the meantime Cullen tries to cope with his feelings for the charming Inquisitor, in spite of the relentless teasing from several women in Skyhold...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's springtime in Skyhold and (almost) everyone gets affected with the season. At least, that's how it begins.  
> I started this as a Wintersend story (hence the title), but along the way several issues popped up I couldn't deny, so you should take the title quite broadly. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> And many thanks for reading in advance! (Because, when I write that at the end, the words will get dragged throughout all the following chapters and I don't know how to fix that.)

Wintersend

-

A little earlier than the day before, and definitely with more vigour, the bright sun climbed over the high with snow covered mountains that surrounded the impressive fortress of Skyhold. The birds sang a different song this morning, louder and with more virtuoso and, perhaps even more importantly, their songs were full of zest. It was literally revitalizing. And on their bright notes there seemed to travel a touch of warmth down from the sky. There hovered something energizing in the tantalizing crisp air, a promise of a new beginning. The beginning of something better. It was as if something shifted under the blanket of winter’s freezing cold and slowly started to awake. It was as if the soil softly shuddered and hitherto sleeping life rose up from the long hibernation that had held the world in its frosty grasp. Roots stirred, snow and ice turned into drops of water and with admirable courage the first flowers braved the still freezing temperature of the early morning and pushed their little heads through the white sheet of snow to look upon the altering world. With reluctance, but inevitable, winter was yielding.

Something hung in the air.

The castle was already bustling with activity. In fact, the kitchen staff had been busy for hours with preparing breakfast for the many inhabitants and so, perhaps, had missed the changing atmosphere. They had been cooped up in the steaming kitchen, trapped between the hot ovens and burning stoves as they were. But even they got tipped off by the soldiers, who emerged from their sleeping quarters to fill the mess with their presence, and seemed to be more boisterous than usual. Their merry mood was infectious and soon the kitchen was full with laughter and songs. Even the nobles emerged somewhat sooner than they used to from their rooms in the main building to gather in the Main Hall.

And Vivienne, who normally strode through the vast space like a stern, unchallengeable queen, ready to assault anyone with a haughty jab or sneer, or simply with her superior attitude, seemed to tread lighter this morning. There floated a vague smile around her lips. And most astonishing, this morning she even smiled benignly at the servants who in a flurry went off and on to see to all the needs and wishes. All around her people were laughing and joyfully chatting, and most of them returned her smile. She gracefully sank down in a seat and with satisfaction reached for a fresh baked bread roll. ‘Sometimes simple life is good,’ she murmured.

Something hung in the air.

Cole was observing the mood from the entrance to the rotunda Solas used as a study and as a kind of studio. The ghost boy was sitting on the threshold to the Main Hall, as always with his legs crossed and his hands clasped together. But he wasn’t as tense as he normally was; he wasn’t rocking back and forth in the compulsory way he usually did. In some way or another the atmosphere was rubbing off on him. ‘There is less fear,’ he remarked pensively. ‘The people are more happy and light-hearted. This day, for once, their smiles are real.’

The elf looked up from the wall he was painting. He watched Cole with a gentle expression. ‘I know it’s hard for you to understand,’ he said, ‘because nothing like this exists in the Fade.’ He gave the wall another brush. ‘Sadly,’ he added nearly inaudible. He turned his attention back to Cole. ‘But even you must feel it: spring is in the air.’

-

The Iron Bull stepped out of the room he had claimed as his private domain, onto the ramparts, leaving two still sleeping redheads behind in the big dishevelled bed. Two exhausted but satisfied redheads. He stole a look before he closed the door behind his back and grinned broadly. Hmm. Redheads. Worth every moment. Let them have their sleep. They needed it and, moreover, they earned it. With a grumbling grunt he stretched the muscles of his ox-like shoulders and he inhaled with deep eager breaths the fresh morning air. ‘Ah,’ he rumbled contently, ‘smells good.’ He sentenced the subtle shifting roots, the melting ice and rising flowers through his nostrils and savoured it.

Something hung in the air...

And then he noticed a small figure struggling along a steep slope and burst out laughing. ‘He is persistent, I must give him that. Brave man.’

-

Cullen looked up from the letter he was reading when something was placed with a not to miss determined thud under his nose on his bureau. The something turned out to be a plate, holding a piece of cake. To his dismay he saw a springy Sera standing in his line of sight. Hastily he fumbled the letter away. Maker forbid she caught even a single word; he’d never hear the end of it. He tried to compose himself. ‘What’s this?’

Though she was hardly able to conceal the naughty twinkle in her eyes, Sera scoffed with acted irritation, ‘It’s cake, mister bright-head Commander. You can eat it. It ain’t no friggin’ prank.’

‘Then why are you giving this to me?’ Cullen asked befuddled.

The elf rolled her eyes. ‘It’s spring, innit? People do nice things for other people when it’s spring.’

‘They do?’ Suspiciously Cullen eyed the piece of cake. It looked innocent enough and smelled alluring, but he trusted Sera as far as he could throw her. Which was, admittedly, considerably far, what with her being small and (seemingly) fragile, and him being muscular and strong, if only because of all the training exercises.

Defiantly Sera put her hands on her slim hips. ‘Look at you, mister fancy-pants, skinny as an elf! That ain’t good! Our Lady Inquisitor won’t like that when she returns.’ She winked conspiratorially. ‘ _Your_ Lady Inquisitor,’ she said in a husky voice. Cullen’s eyes flew wide with horror. ‘Ooh,’ Sera cooed, ‘someone has a crush on the Lady Inquisitor!’ She mimicked a firm embrace and pouted her lips in a fake fat kiss.

‘That’s enough!’ Cullen said sternly, while he felt, to his dismay, his face turn beet red.

In a fit of giggles Sera skipped out of the room. ‘Eat the cake, Lord Commander! You’ll need it!’

Cullen pushed the plate aside. No way in the world he would hazard even tasting a crumb before he had had it tested by Dagna. And he _would_ let her test the cake, if only out of curiosity. Even though he suspected Sera had only come to pester him to make him blush with her inappropriate insinuations. He wouldn’t put it past her she had made a bet on it with someone. Varric, most probably.

Instead he removed Evelyn’s quickly concealed letter from the drawer of his desk, but only after he had made sure Sera had really disappeared, and reread the contents. Or better: he reread the last lines, only meant for him. He blushed again and let out a deep sigh of happiness. He counted the days till her return. Perhaps then he could muster the courage to tell her what he felt for her.

There hung something in the air and it was more than the tang of spring.

-                                                                                 

‘Look! Crocuses!’ Delighted Josephine pointed at a small vase sitting on her desk. It was filled with a bouquet of little lilac coloured flowers. A generous splash of sunlight streamed through the high window and laid a silver sheen over the petals that surrounded tiny hearts of gold.

Captivated Leliana stared at the still-live. ‘Such fragile looking little flowers,’ she mused, ‘and yet they survive in the harsh climate of the mountains.’ She smiled. ‘Where did you get those?’

‘From my secret admirer.’ Josephine’s voice sounded elated and as matter-of-fact at the same time.

‘Oh. Blackwall,’ Leliana said, her expression souring.

‘Don’t give me that critical face, Leliana. Blackwell is a good man,’ Josephine tittered. ‘Perhaps somewhat austere but with an unexpected romantic streak. As you can see.’ She bent over her desk to happily sniff the faint smell of the crocuses.

The spymaster straightened her shoulders and folded her hands behind her back. ‘You know very well romance is best enjoyed from afar,’ she remarked snappily.

‘Do I?’ Josephine reacted a tad prickly. ‘Really, Leliana, you could at least make an effort to set your education aside, if only for a short while. Not all is the Game, you know.’

‘You know very well that All _is_ the Game,’ Leliana murmured, with a little disapproving frown, ‘and that All is offered _to_ the Game.’ She tilted her head and added, almost dreamily, ‘There is nothing to compare to the Game.

The Ambassador shook her head. She knew Leliana for such a long time, and she knew her well. Despite that, or better: therefore,  she understood her point of view. They shared the same history, shared the same education ... the Game seemed so vital, back in those days. It was still important now, of course, but Leliana seemed to be absorbed by it. As if it was some kind of obsession. _There is nothing to compare to the Game_ ... that couldn’t be good. It sounded too addictive, habit-forming. Too compulsive. But, right now, she didn’t want to quarrel, right now there was something of more significance. ‘Look at the flowers! They are telling something!’

The Spymaster awoke from her contemplation and frowned, although with certain amusement. ‘And what are they telling..?’

Josephine leant back in her chair. She had taken one little crocus out of the vase and now turned the flower between her fingers. ‘Wintersend, Leliana. It is time for the celebration of Wintersend!’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is new story, I decided to post the second chapter right this day, so most of the characters have had an introduction. Only Flemeth has to await her stage performance, as does Anders. But they will come along in the chapters to be. And their roles will be significant, trust me.
> 
> For now: enjoy!

Wintersend 2

-

Many leagues from Skyhold a group of people were staying in the Inquisition encampment at the outskirts of the Western Approach. They weren’t aware in any way of the spring fever that had Skyhold in its grip, mostly because this part of Thedas had no experience with that season whatsoever. The Approach had mainly experience with permanent drought, scorching hot days and icy cold nights. Said group would spend this particular night in the camp and gather supplies for the journey home. Although “home” was a broad term for the most of them.

For starters there was Dorian, probably further from home than any of them. At least _he_ thought so and ever so often reminded his companions he not only was miles away from Minrathous, but also trotted around alien countries that lacked proper civilisation (and hygiene) and were populated by weird people with even weirder habits. A good runner up was Varric, who thought that Kirkwall was the only decent place to live in. Cassandra, on the other hand, had been away from her birthplace for so long that she had come to consider Val Royeaux as her home, although it must be said she had easily adapted to Skyhold. And Evelyn was still trying to fit into her new life and the title that came with it. She had to admit it was far better than the boring repetitive day-to-day routine in the Circle, but ever so often she had to pinch herself to be convinced it was all real. Not to mention the reason why her life had taken this unexpected turn was disquieting, to say the least of it.

The fifth member of the group wouldn’t dream of looking upon Skyhold as her home and not only because she had been forced to steal into and sneak around the place as if she was scouting an enemy stronghold. Or was a common thief. Just like Varric, she already had a home, one she loved. Her absence was only temporarily – she hoped. She stared into her bowl of stew, listlessly prodding the food with her spoon. She was well aware of the prying eyes of the dwarf but wished not to pay any attention to it.

They had said goodbye to Stroud, who had gone off to Adamant Fortress with a small but select company of Inquisition scouts. After the disturbing events at the Ritual Tower, Stroud was certain Livius Erimond had fled to the Warden fortress and he wanted to assess the situation over there with his own eyes. Hawke had planned to accompany him but both the Inquisitor and Varric had insisted she’d come to Skyhold with them. Evelyn wanted to talk with Hawke about how she had coped with the sudden rise to power and the influence that came with it, because she still felt uncomfortable with her situation. And Varric, well, he worried about his friend.

She had stood raving about blood magic in a way that better suited Fenris. It seemed she had lost her touch with humour and, not to put a too fine point to it, she looked like shit. Her posture was strained, there were lines in her face and shadows in her eyes. She was thinner than she ought to be and her skin had a shade of grey, as if she hadn’t had a good night’s rest for ages. And speaking of Fenris, why wasn’t the elf with her? He had expressed his surprise when she had arrived alone at Skyhold but she had been very evasive. She had mumbled something about a promising lead to a nest of Tevinter slavers somewhere along the Wounded Coast and the look in her eyes had made clear he shouldn’t press on. Knowing her, he wouldn’t be able to pilfer any more information from her and thus Varric, wisely, hadn’t. But that didn’t mean he stopped being concerned.

It was getting dark and they huddled together around the fire, for the cold was creeping in slowly but surely; or rather with the speed of a glacier gone wild. Around them sounded the noisy chirping of the insects Varric hated even more than the spiders they occasionally had to fight; at least the arachnids stayed in their home-caves and didn’t crawl into his bedroll.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, Serah Hawke,’ Cassandra broke the relative silence, ‘where have you been staying during the years after the mages’ uprising in Kirkwall? As you can understand, we have been looking for you but not once we found even the slightest trace.’

Hawke put her half emptied bowl aside and gave the Seeker a wry smile. ‘It’s obvious you’re not familiar with the environs of Kirkwall. It’s very easy to hide in the hills, if you know the right spots. Though I have to admit Fenris and I have lived like fugitives for a while, until it was safe enough to settle down in a little cottage near the coast.’

‘Why didn’t you flee far from the city?’ Evelyn asked in wonderment. ‘It must have been perilous to stay so close.’

But Hawke shook her head. ‘Where would we go? Kirkwall was the starting point of the storm that spread quickly throughout Thedas, but thanks to the capable leadership of both Guard Captain Aveline and, back then, Knight Commander Cullen, some semblance of peace was restored quite fast. So, ironically, the safest place for us to be was close to the city.’ She pulled up her knees and folded her arms around her shins. ´We even contemplated to return to live in my estate but deemed it too dangerous. There were still a lot of people who blamed me for the disaster. There still are.´ She threw a significant glance at the Seeker. ´And even Fenris can´t foresee every furtively drawn knife.´

Cassandra looked alarmed and lifted a hand. ´I am not blaming you –‘

´Oh, come on Seeker,´ Varric interrupted her savagely. ´When you dragged me into the Amell Estate you were convinced Hawke instigated the whole thing. You would have happily beaten the shit out of me, simply because you didn’t like what I was telling you! You were out for her blood!’

‘You know damn well I wasn’t,’ Cassandra snarled in return. ‘I was trying to find her and you were lying to me! You told me you didn’t know where she was!’

‘I was protecting my friend!’ Varric yelled back.

‘Stop it, you two!’ the Inquisitor intervened sternly. ‘We have been through this before and we decided to let it rest.’ The two bickerers reluctantly backed off, both mumbling something unintelligibly under their breath. With surprised amusement Hawke had followed the row and with some effort bit down a chuckle.

Dorian leaned casually back and eyed the scene with mild interest. It was a well known fact the Seeker and the dwarf were constantly at each other’s throats and, frankly, the old story became rather boring. He shifted his attention to Hawke instead and was about to sign his own death-warrant with his next remark. ‘You know, Champion,’ he drawled conversationally, ‘I met with your elf once.’

Slowly Hawke unfolded her arms and straightened her back. Her small smile evaporated. She resembled an alert jungle cat, poised to jump her prey. ‘Did you now.’ Her voice sounded dangerously flat, with a hardly hidden hint at murder.

Dorian totally failed to read the signals and ignorantly blundered on. ‘Yes. It was a long time ago, of course. I was just an adolescent back then. But I thought he looked exquisite, like a wondrous piece of art.’

Varric stiffened. _It was nice knowing you Sparkles_ , he thought, _such a pity you must end your life as a bloody pulp in the sand._

In the meantime Hawke’s face had turned into a sample of the hardest granite. ‘I do hope you realise that the creation of that piece of art involved enduring excruciating pain and that it came with the complete loss of memory.’ Her voice dripped with so much venom she could without any trouble have killed a medium sized town with just speaking. ‘Tell me, were you only allowed to gawk or did Danarius permit you to touch him and let your greedy hands glide over his body? Or has he even granted you the exclusive honour of making a more intimate use of _my elf_?’

A with horror drenched silence fell. Even the screeching of the nocturnal insects seemed to fade into the background. They all stared aghast at Hawke whose face in the dancing flames of the campfire was a fiery mask of unrefined fury and loathing. It didn’t occur often Dorian found himself at a loss for words but this was definitely one of those rare occasions. But he wasn’t the only one. Naturally Varric knew Fenris had been used as a living weapon by his former master and how that still troubled him; this part of the cruel exploitation, however, was completely new to him. He wondered how long Hawke had known.

‘Is this what you meant when you claimed slaves are generally treated well in Tevinter?’ said Evelyn, the disgust palpable in her voice. ‘That they are better off being someone’s property than having to live in poverty on the streets?’

‘Not exactly,’ mumbled Dorian, who had forgone his languid pose and now looked like a schoolboy who got reprimanded by his favourite teacher.

Hawke snorted derisively. ‘Ah yes, I’ve heard that one before.’ She had never taken her blazing eyes off the Tevinter mage. Her next words sounded clipped, and drenched with suppressed fury. ‘Have you ever even _tried_ to imagine what’s it _like_ to be a slave, instead of bossing them around? How it feels to be denied to make your own decisions, to be at the mercy of your master? To be completely powerless, not being allowed to decide over your own life? How it feels to live in constant fear to be punished for a mistake you weren’t aware of making, or simply because your master or mistress is in a bad mood? And don’t tell me that kind of abuses didn’t take place in your household. Sooner or later power always corrupts; it is inevitable when someone holds sway over others who cannot fall back on the law when they are treated badly, because the only law that applies to them is the undefined fickle one of their master. Absolute power is a too heavy weight to be carried by any mortal being. And others will always pay for it.’

Dorian delicately cleared his throat and Varric thought, _I would be very careful if I were you; the last magister she encountered didn’t live to tell the tale._ He was relieved she hadn’t singed, frozen or electrocuted Dorian yet, though this second rant kindled his worries even more.

Hawke, though, didn’t give Dorian the chance to speak. Perhaps for the better. Remorselessly she went on, ‘I understand you left Tevinter because your father wanted to perform a blood ritual on you. Well, boohoo. If you had been a slave, you wouldn’t have had the choice to simply walk away. Fenris hadn’t. Just like him, you would have been forced to submit to your master’s will. To his whimsically desires.’ As sudden as she had flared up, she now deflated, as if all energy flowed away in one big gush. She took a shuddering breath and screwed her eyes shut. ‘Do me a favour, Varric, and hand me the wineskin.’

Dorian exchanged a quick questioning glance with Varric but the dwarf helplessly shrugged his shoulders. ’Are you alright, Hawke?’ he asked anxiously while he did her bidding.

‘I’m fine,’ Hawke retorted curtly, ‘just tired.’ She opened her eyes again and made an apologetic gesture towards Dorian who was staring at her in pure bewilderment. ‘I’m sorry. I believe I got a little carried away.’ She uncorked the wineskin and took a deep gulp before she passed it on to Evelyn who gratefully accepted. ‘I know you’re here to try to put things right, and I appreciate that, but there are certain aspects about the Tevinter Imperium, many in fact, that drive me terribly mad.’

‘That is quite obvious,’ Dorian reacted with a wary smile he somehow managed to make rather charming at the same time. ‘It has been a long time since I received such a firm scolding.’

‘Let’s hope it’s an eye-opener,’ grumbled Cassandra. She stood up and started to collect the empty bowls.

Dorian shifted and brushed some sand off his trousers. ‘I realise it doesn’t help much, but I’d like to explain House Pavus didn’t want anything to do with Danarius’s unsavoury acts, and we weren’t the only family. There were rumours, you see, nasty rumours. So nasty I thought they had to be exaggerated; I never got the chance to verify them, though. We didn’t get invited to Danarius’s parties and would have declined anyway.’

Hawke wasn’t totally convinced. ‘Then how did you meet Fenris?’

Dorian shot her a lopsided smile. ‘Accidently in the market, to be frank. By pure chance, so to say. And I must confess I was in awe.’ The lopsided smile turned in a split-second into a boyish grin. ‘You must at least agree with me he is extremely handsome.’

‘Really?’ Cassandra said sarcastically. ‘You admit someone is handsome? Other than you? And extremely, no less! Are you ill?’

‘Not as handsome as I, evidently. That would be impossible,’ Dorian stated with his usual aplomb.

Hawke raised her brows. ‘I beg to differ,’ she said, answering him with an equal nasty smile that held some of the humour Varric had direly missed and reflected now, to his relief, in her amused expression. ‘And, by the way, I would choose Fenris tenfold over you. Sorry, old chap. But then again, I don’t think you would lose any sleep over it. After all, you prefer men.’ She cocked her head when an idea hit her. ‘Food for thought ... picture a situation in which we admire the same man. We could swoon together over him, marvel at his tight ass, his broad chest, his dazzling laugh.’

Dorian looked incredulously at her and burst out laughing the moment after. ‘You’re a woman after my heart. I’ll keep your name in my secret book.’

‘So it’s true, you have a secret book.’ Hawke grinned roguishly. ‘I always wondered...’ Then she yawned and rubbed her face. ‘And speaking of sleep, if you will excuse me, I think I’m going to try to catch some. I’m exhausted.’ She once more turned to Dorian. ´Don´t even think to steal my man away.´

Her smile was so predatory that even Evelyn backed away.

But, despite her fatigue, Hawke lay awake for a long time, open-eyed staring at the sparkling stars above her. ‘I miss you so much,’ she whispered, ‘and I’m so sorry I had to hurt you.´ She still wondered if she had made the right decision. But that voice kept disturbing her mind and she couldn’t shut it out. She had to do this and she had to do it without him. She didn’t want to drag him into danger. Not again.

-

Cullen stood on the ramparts next to his office and stared at the mountains. Or rather, he more specifically stared at the road winding down from the only pass that connected Skyhold with the rest of the world. Absently he tapped his fingers on the old but still strong masonry of the battlements and strained his eyes till they watered. He wouldn’t hasten Evelyn’s return with any of those feeble actions but he grew tired of waiting. By now he wished he could have mustered the courage to tell her what he felt for her before she had left, although, according to her last message, she already knew.

 _I so much long to see your wonderful smile again. The day cannot come too soon._ _I miss you._

He kept that letter as a treasure in a drawer of his desk and allowed himself a few times a day to reread the lines. And every time he did, those lines triggered a boost to overcome the many problems and annoyances he had to handle. He never had known his smile was wonderful. Hers certainly was and he missed her too.

Nobody had been more surprised than he to find he had fallen in love, with a mage no less. He had steeled himself before their first encounter in the Chantry at Haven. Despite his strong resolution of leaving the Templars after everything that had happened in Kirkwall, he still didn’t feel comfortable around mages. And then she had stepped into the room and immediately his inner defences had crumbled. Never before he had met a Circle mage like her; regardless of what had happened to her and the way she had been treated, she radiated a kind of self-confidence and optimism that was contagious. The look in her bright green eyes was open and honest without a trace of fear or subjection. Only then he had understood in full how much damage Meredith’s reign of terror had caused. How the way she had punished and tortured and humiliated the mages in an attempt to subdue them by destroying their personalities had inevitably led to the devastating outburst. When he, later that night, tried to make sense of the mess this astonishing woman had made of his head, he already had been utterly grateful Evelyn never had been dragged into the Kirkwall Circle, just by watching her, by observing her pure attitude, by seeing her unharmed by fear. Not much later he would be more than grateful Meredith never had been able to crush _her_ sparkling personality. At the same time it had made him questioning his role in the whole drama even more.

In the days that followed, he caught himself several times on staring after her as she darted passed him in the village. They had had some conversations that actually had nothing to do with the dire situation and he had been certain she had flirted with him on a few occasions. It had confused him, even embarrassed him somewhat, and it had made his heart take up more than one pace. But only after the attack on Haven and their narrow escape, after he had been mortally afraid she hadn’t made it, he had realised he had fallen in love with her. Madly. At first he had felt awkward and giddy around her, like a clumsy youngster who didn’t know what to say and where to look or leave his hands, but soon she had set him at ease with her warm encouraging smile. Strangely she took his breath away and at the same time gave him back his voice with that smile and how she sometimes lightly touched his hand. It gave him a tingle like an electric charge but he knew it had nothing to do with her being a mage and, on the other hand, everything with his feelings for her. She influenced him, in more than one way.

Sleep didn’t come easy to him, not even in the best of nights. He still suffered from lyrium withdrawal and regularly got plagued by nightmares about the awful occurrences at both the Ferelden Circle and at the battle in Kirkwall. But now he had the image of her lovely face and the echo of her warm cheerful voice to guide him back to sanity, when he awoke with a start in the middle of the night. He permitted himself to succumb to daydreaming for a moment...

‘Pining for our Lady Inquisitor, Commander?’

He hadn’t heard Leliana approach and almost jumped. He groaned. ‘Maker’s breath, not you as well!’

‘Well, excuse me, Cullen,’ said Leliana with an amused smile, ‘if you don’t want people to talk, then you should keep a straight face.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Cullen suspiciously.

‘I mean that every time you’re even remotely near Evelyn you start to glow.’

Cullen bristled. ‘I do not.’ To his dread he felt himself change colour. Again.

‘It appears that even mentioning her name does the trick.’ The spymaster sniggered. She actually _sniggered_. ‘You know, people are betting on how long it will take until you will finally give in to your infatuation.’

‘They _what_?’ Cullen was horrified.

Playfully Leliana patted his hand. ‘Nothing stays a secret in Skyhold,’ she said, ‘at least not for long.’ Her expression became pensively. ‘You’re not holding back because she’s a mage, do you?’

‘No!’ Cullen as good as yelled. ‘It’s just... ‘ He let out a deep sigh. He knew Leliana had not only a soft spot for Grey Wardens, but for mages as well. One day, he promised himself, one day he would ask her about it. But this was not that day. ‘I don’t have much experience with this, er, subject,’ he confessed. ‘I mean, er, it’s been a long time since someone, er –‘

‘Made you stutter?’ Leliana said sweetly. ‘Listen, Cullen, there’s never a perfect time for this but you have luck on your side.’

‘I have?’ he said, bewildered.

‘Of course. Spring is on its way!’ To underline her words she took a deep breath of air. ‘Josephine was right. You can smell it, you can even taste it. Nature is waking up and longs for the embrace of life. And how could a woman possibly be able to reject your advances when the aroused passion of nature herself swirls around her?’

Cullen stared at her. _She may be a spymaster nowadays, but once a bard always a bard, obviously,_ he thought. ‘And who arouses your passion?’ he blurted a bit prickly before he could help himself. The moment he realised what exactly he had said, he wanted to disappear into that big hole in the sky, but to his relief Leliana just laughed. With an elegant swagger she walked to the stairs, but just before she descended she turned her head. ‘Oh, I almost forgot why I came here. I received another report from the Inquisitor. Apparently they are making better progress than she assumed before. She hopes to arrive the day after tomorrow.’ She saw his face light up and added with a twinkle in her eye, ‘The report came with a personal message. They are on your desk.’

Cullen didn’t even try to make an effort at keeping up appearances and rushed into his office without a second thought.

-

Somewhere on the outskirts of Amaranthine, the owner of a livery stable gazed wordlessly at the absurd amount of gold that had been pushed into his hands.

‘That was an elf in a hurry if I ever saw one,’ an astounded ostler remarked, while he stared after a fast disappearing horse.

His boss looked up, the glance of the gold reflecting in his eyes. ‘I don’t give a damn where he got that kind of money,’ he said hoarsely, ‘if he worked for it, inherited it or nicked it. For all I care he robbed the Chantry.’ His face almost split in two with a broad grin. ‘We’re closing early today, boys. Tonight drinks are on me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked shy-Cullen-in-love. I know I did.
> 
> By the way, I took the scene in which Hawke invites Dorian to swoon over the same tight ass out of real life. That was really a fun evening!
> 
> Many thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Wintersend 3

 -

Night had fallen over Skyhold but, even now, the castle kept buzzing like a beehive. The work in the kitchen never seemed to be finished, in the great hall the nobles chatted their time away, while in the Herald’s Rest the common folk did the same, although with more noise and probably more fun. And, of course, you could only drag Dagna out of the Undercroft with mild violence and even then, she kept on prattling about runes and artefacts and all sorts of magical experiments till she drove everyone around her crazy. Usually the Iron Bull pushed a mug of ale into her enthusiastically gesticulating hands, grumbling words like, ‘Shut up woman, drink this and do something dwarfish for a change.’

The only relatively quiet spot in the whole castle was the garden, especially at this time of day, and Cullen, Josephine and Leliana liked to gather in the gazebo after dinner to discuss the situation and talk about the daily occurrences. As they did this evening. Several fires were burning in cast iron pots to bring warmth on the cold evening and a few oil lamps and candles spread soft cosy light. Spring had also reached this secluded part of Skyhold; around the stone well daffodils were blooming, and the small trees seemed to vibrate with life, ready to unfold their fresh leaves.

‘I have a room prepared for Lady Hawke,’ said Josephine while she filled three glasses with red wine from a decanter. ‘I understand she’s travelling with the Inquisitor. I wouldn’t like her to take refuge in one of the dilapidated rooms on the battlement, like the last time she was here.’

Leliana giggled softly. ‘I’m curious to know how the encounter between her and Cassandra went.’

‘Oh, I’m sure our Seeker hasn’t devoured her,’ Josephine said optimistically.

‘No, but I wish I could have been there, just to see Varric’s reaction. I bet he hovered around Hawke like a mother hen around her chick, scowling at Cassandra and defying her to make just one wrong move.’

Cullen said nothing. Hawke belonged, and in a very significant way too, to his memories of that horrible night Kirkwall fell apart, and he wasn’t certain he was pleased to meet with her again. In a way she symbolised the failures of that part of his life, a part he so much wanted to forget, one of the parts he wished he had never gone through. It was for a great deal due to her actions his eyes had opened that night and he finally saw Meredith for the dangerous lunatic she had become. He still felt guilty about how he ever so often had turned his head and had told himself even the excessive measures had been necessary to keep the people of Kirkwall safe. _All the people except for the mages_ , _because we didn’t consider them people_ , he thought remorsefully, I _didn’t consider them people back then_. And besides that, he remembered all too well how he had, years earlier, gone on in the Gallows Courtyard about the danger of magic, how he had stated in Hawke’s face mages were not be treated like human beings and could turn into monsters at any moment just because they were _mages_. While knowing very well at that point she was a mage herself. And all that after she had been such a great help and had assisted him without a second thought. He might have been a different man back then, he nevertheless still felt ashamed, thinking of that scene.

‘I received a report about Adamant Fortress,’ Leliana’s voice cut through his contemplations. ‘As Stroud already assumed, Erimond has fled to the stronghold. It looks like he has Commander Clarel in his clutches and through her he wields his, or rather Corypheus’s influence over the other Wardens. We should intervene as fast as possible. So, I fear your Wintersend celebration must wait for a while, Josy.’

‘I thought it a bad idea anyhow,’ Cullen grumbled. He was in a bad mood and not only because he had been plagued by old memories. The whole day he had been looking forward to Evelyn’s return, but she hadn’t arrived yet. He worried something had happened but hadn’t vented his concern out of fear the others would laugh at him. He had been teased enough as it was already. ‘We’re in the middle of a war,’ he added morosely. ‘This is no time for celebrations.’

‘On the contrary, my dear Commander,’ Josephine waylaid him with her voice that radiated nothing but cheerfulness. ‘In times like these people need a diversion. It’s important to steer their minds away from death and danger once in a while.’

Leliana sipped from her red wine. ‘I totally agree with you, Josephine. A Wintersend party will be good for morale. Perhaps we should celebrate before we march on Adamant anyway; I imagine it will take at least a week to organize the attack and set it all into motion. We have time for a celebration. Yes,’ she mused, slowly swirling the wine around in her glass, ‘it _will_ be good for morale.’ It earned her a defiant snort.

‘Morale is already outstanding. I don’t see how a party could contribute,’ Cullen protested with a generous amount of indignation.

‘That’s a pity,’ a voice chimed from behind his back. ‘And here I was, hoping for a dance with our Commander.’

Cullen jumped up so fast that his chair toppled over. For a mage Evelyn certainly moved with stealth. He spun around to face her and for a few moments didn’t know what to say. ‘There you are,’ he managed and felt utterly silly for it. ‘Are you alright?’ he added which was no improvement. ‘I, I mean I was starting to worry. You wrote you would arrive today.’ It sounded like an accusation and he wanted to slap himself. Maker! _Read once more the manual “How_ Not _to make a Fool of Myself” and take lessons, you idiot,_ he chastised himself. To his relief Evelyn laughed. In his ears it sounded like a splash of summer rain.

‘And I did, as you can see,’ the Inquisitor chortled, ‘although I don’t think Dorian will forgive me in a hurry for dragging him over the last pass in the dark. He was still complaining when we reached the gates.’

‘In the dark? That’s far too dangerous!’ Cullen said, shocked. In the meantime, he busied himself with picking up the chair, ignoring the amused chuckles from Leliana and Josephine and making an attempt at calming down his racing heart.

‘Yes, that’s what Dorian kept telling me, but we made it all in one piece, didn’t we? And I really didn’t feel like camping out in the cold, not with Skyhold so tantalizingly close by.’ She gave him a radiant smile. ‘And you, of course,’ she added with a warm timbre. The term “sultry” sprang to mind and Cullen almost dropped the chair he but just had erected. Without thinking he stretched out his hand to, as the gentleman he was, help her step into the gazebo. She took his proffered hand and in a sudden impulse he pulled her close and embraced her tightly for a heartbeat. The usual exciting tingle turned into a burning fire and he let go of her before he would lose his self-control and start to kiss her passionately in front of the two other women. ‘You must be tired,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Please, take my seat.’ He not only offered her his chair but his glass of wine as well. Evelyn gratefully accepted both; she sat down and took a sip.

‘Where did you leave the rest of your party?’ Leliana informed.

‘I only know Varric was in dire need of a strong drink,’ Evelyn said after another swallow, ‘and he dragged Hawke with him to the tavern. I suppose Dorian has fled to his room to find solace in his books and a bottle of wine after what he called “that suicide traverse”. Highly exaggerated of course but that’s Dorian for you. I don’t know where Cassandra went. Probably in search for a bath which I will do too after I have finished this glass. I’m afraid it will take at least two hours to scrub off all the filth. I take it you have received the information we were able to gather?’

The spymaster nodded. ‘That, and Stroud has sent important intelligence about Adamant Fortress.’

‘There arrived a message from Kirkwall addressed to Lady Hawke,’ Josephine interfered, ‘I will have it delivered to her immediately.’

But Evelyn rose from her chair. ‘No need. I will bring it to her before I take my bath.’ She shot Cullen another bright smile. ‘Shall we meet again afterwards? Here in the gazebo maybe? There’s something I want to give to you.’

‘I’d like that,’ Cullen said. Aglow with happiness he stared after her as she waltzed out of the garden.

-

‘Aren’t you going to read it?’ asked Varric, directing at the small folded piece of paper that had been pushed into Hawke’s hand by the Inquisitor herself; the woman had popped up and disappeared at almost the same moment. ‘Sorry, bath is waiting,’ had been her only vague explanation. Varric didn’t care one bit about her ablutions; he was practically bouncing with curiosity about the message she had delivered. That was the only thing that mattered, and Hawke had acted insufferably uninterested up till now.

‘Yes, but preferably not here,’ she now said. ‘Isn’t there somewhere quiet?’ They were surrounded by people talking loudly, people singing loudly and other people playing dice even more loudly. Not exactly a place to read a private message and preferably try to keep it private.

‘Let’s go to my room,’ Varric proposed. They left the Herald’s Rest, crossed the courtyard and ascended the long flight of stairs that led to the Great Hall. Varric opened the entrance to his apartment, let Hawke in and closed the door behind their backs. While he poured her a glass of rare Orlesian cognac, she looked around and smiled at some familiar features. The large table in the middle of the room, the liquor cabinet, the dwarven sculptures on the wall, the pack of cards on the table. She almost felt at home.

‘It makes me think of your suite in the Hanged Man,’ she remarked airily, masking the sudden bittersweet wave of nostalgia that hit her.

‘That was the idea,’ Varric said, ‘although back there I had very rarely access to this kind of quality.’ He pointed at the bottle. ‘The good part of living in this place is that this stuff is easy to come by, especially with an organizing miracle as our Ambassador around. The downside is they eat snails here. Can you imagine?!’

‘Ach.’ Hawke shrugged nonchalantly. ‘They’re not too bad with butter and a pinch of garlic, so I’ve heard.’ She patted him lightly on the shoulder and picked her glass from the table. ‘I know you miss Kirkwall, Varric, and that also counts for me. And thus, I promise you that, once this is all over, we will get irresponsibly drunk in the Hanged Man together.’

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ the dwarf mumbled. ‘And will you now finally read that blighted message?! I’m burning up here!’

‘It’s from Aveline,’ Hawke said after she had unfolded the thin paper. ‘She writes she has safely escorted Carver out of Orlais and – ‘She interrupted herself and then started to laugh. ‘She has got him aboard Isabela’s ship!’ She snorted with glee. ‘Well, better a pirate than a dead Grey Warden I suppose. Well done, Guard-Captain.’

And then she suddenly blanched. She dropped the paper and grabbed the edge of the table as if she was about to lose her balance.

‘What’s wrong?’ Varric asked, alarmed. At first she didn’t react, and he had to repeat his question. With emphasis.

‘Fenris has disappeared,’ she then whispered.

‘What do you mean, “disappeared”?’ Without asking or waiting for her permission he snatched up the message and skimmed the text until he came to the relevant part. _F vanished, took all his gear. House a mess. Was in a hurry and/or very mad._ “Very” had been underlined twice. Varric looked up from Aveline’s firm scribble. ‘What’s this all about, Hawke? Why would he be mad, very mad no less? Very underlined-twice mad?’

But she didn’t answer. She had let go of the table and was now pacing the room, her hands clenched to fists. ‘Damn it damn it damn it,’ she kept murmuring as some kind of dark mantra.

‘Hawke?’ Varric pressed on. A nasty suspicion began to take form. ‘Does he know where you are? Did you tell him where you were headed?’ With force he suppressed a panic attack. ‘Please say you did.’

‘Sort of,’ Hawke muttered reluctantly.

‘Sort of?!’

‘I left him a note, alright!’

Varric cringed. ‘Ouch! You might as well have stabbed him in the back!’ Hawke stopped pacing for a moment but only to take a large gulp of the costly cognac which made Varric cringe even more. ‘And you sneaked out like a thief in the night,’ he presumed. ‘Damn it indeed.’

‘I didn’t have to, he wasn’t at home at the time.’ Tired she rubbed her face. ‘I wasn’t lying when I told you about the slavers along the Wounded Coast. He went ahead to scout, after I found an excuse for consulting Aveline first. I mean about the Carver-affair. I promised I would follow him as soon as I could. He believed me. Of course he did. Instead I came here.’ She rattled off the sentences as if she was delivering a report in record time to an impatient captain.

‘Forgive me for saying so, Hawke, but this whole business doesn’t make any sense to me,’ the impatient captain said harshly. ‘You’re acting like you’ve completely lost your mind. Since when do you come up with lame excuses to get away from your elf? Since when do you even _want_ to be separated from him? There’s something wrong, something you’re not telling me.’ He glared fiercely at her. ‘You better come clear.’

Hawke plopped down in the first chair she came across. She bumped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. For a time she didn’t move and Varric had to restrain himself from shaking her until she’d spill the truth. But finally she sat straight and leant back. She dropped her hands in her lap and let out a deep sigh. ‘I’m not getting any younger, Varric.’

The dwarf stared blankly at her. This left him no wiser. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I want to become a mother!’ she suddenly blurted. ‘For years I’ve been postponing it because there always was something that stood in the way. Too many problems, one disaster after the other. I kept telling myself there would come a proper time to have a child, but that time is running out. One day soon I will wake up and find I am too late.’

‘I still don’t get it,’ Varric said confused and a little dazed. ‘Are you trying to say Fenris doesn’t want to be a father? Have you two been fighting over this? Is that the reason why you ran off?’

‘No!’

To Varric’s dread tears glistened in her eyes.

‘Can’t you see? I _had_ to come here, no matter what, but he would never have agreed to let me go alone. He would have insisted on accompanying me. But you know even better than I how dangerous the situation is, and you know him; he would have himself killed to protect me! And if he dies, how can he give me a child?!’

Varric got aware his mouth hung open in bafflement. With a click he shut his jaws and then cleared his throat. ‘You run as much risk as he would!’ he managed through his thundering confusion. _Had_ to come here? He dismissed that for the time being. He had too much to cope with already. Heroically he parried her threatening glare and soldiered on. ‘So, perhaps at this point I should draw attention to the fact it’s quite difficult to conceive and carry a child to term when you’re dead. Let alone give birth to one. Quite a contradiction, come to think about it. Or did you overlook that little detail?’ He shook his head to get rid of the upcoming anger but only partly succeeded. ‘To be honest, Hawke, I think you’re acting like an enormous selfish ass.’

‘I want to keep him safe!’ Hawke erupted in a flurry of weak fury. Even in her ears the argument sounded silly; if there was anyone who knew how to survive and stay alive it was Fenris.

‘Sounds to me the only way you want to keep him is as a stud,’ Varric stated bluntly. ‘And apparently you don’t give a shit about his emotions. Have you even once considered how he must feel right now? Does he even know about your desire to have a child?’

Hawke looked disconcerted. ‘I, er, we have talked about it. Now and again.’ She bowed her head. ‘When I say “talk about” I mean, er,’

‘Sort of,’ Varric completed sarcastically. ‘Some smart future-planning you’re giving evidence of! One you can build upon, no doubt about that.’ The dwarf became more agitated by the minute. ‘Which brings me to the next conundrum,’ he went remorselessly on. ‘If you so desperately want a baby and equally desperately want Fenris to live to provide you with one, why, by the Stone, did you come here in the first place?? As I pointed out before, conceiving and carrying to term may be hard without the intended father, but it is quite difficult as a corps too,’ he said harshly. ‘And you know damn well how perilous the present situation is and how much risk you run by sticking your pretty nose in it.’

Hawke roared back to life. ‘I want to put Corypheus down!’ she as good as screamed. ‘That bastard is my responsibility! I found him, I set him free. I thought I killed him but evidently I failed. He must be destroyed! How can I even think about bringing a child into this world as long as that monster exists?!’

Varric took a few breaths, trying to recover his composure. ‘So, summarizing: without consulting Fenris you make the unilateral decision to run away and join the Inquisition in order to sweep the world clean of Corypheus and related nasty creatures so you can safely have your longed-for baby. And how do you think Fenris will react to that insane story? What, by the way, did you put in that note you left him? Can we expect shortly a,’ he threw a look upon Aveline’s message, ‘very (twice underlined) mad elf?’

Hawke fidgeted nervously with her fingers. It was a long time since she had seen Varric so angry, not to say his anger had never been aimed at her.  It was greatly unsettling. ‘I wrote that Carver was doing badly and I needed to accompany him to the Anderfells,’ she murmured. Her confidence, insofar present anyhow, had completely evaporated by now.

‘And you thought he would buy that rubbish?’ Varric cried out incredulously. ‘Seriously Hawke! Are you sure you’re not pregnant already? The way you’ve been behaving of late, you could be expecting triplets!’

‘Quite sure, yes,’ she grumbled glumly, ‘so do me a favour and pour me another cognac.’

Varric cocked his head. He had two options: go on shouting at Hawke or let it rest for the time being. He opted for the last. ‘On one condition,’ he said, ‘you name your firstborn after me.’

For the first time in weeks Hawke burst into laughter. ‘And what if it turns out to be a girl?’

Varric gave her a toothy grin. ‘I always thought “Varric” to be a perfect girl’s name. Well, at least my brother told me so.’ Which made her laugh even louder.

But later that night, alone in a soft too large bed in a luxurious guestroom, she again lay awake for hours, tossing and turning and overwhelmed with anxiety and doubt. ‘I betrayed you,’ she whispered in the darkness that filled her room and her head. Mostly her head; through the window she could see the bright stars that floated like a diamond diadem over the snow-capped mountains. ‘I betrayed you and I’m so sorry. But I had no choice.’ She had to believe that, had to believe she made the right decision but doubt was starting to prevail even over anxiety. Varric had been right, she was an enormous selfish ass. She pushed her face into the feather pillow and tried not to cry. And she tried even harder to shut out that horrible cold voice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still owe you the gift Evelyn had in store for Cullen; I originally planned that part in this chapter but it would become too lengthy. So, I decided to pass it on to the next one. Er, sorry..?
> 
> Nevertheless, thank you much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm in the middle of moving to a new house, I've little time to post anything at all. But, thank you Ms_Saboteur, to give me a kind nudge. So here is, against all odds, a new chapter.
> 
> A warning in advance: lots of fluff. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it!

Wintersend 4

-

When, later that night, Evelyn returned to the garden, Cullen was already waiting for her. Or better, was _still_ waiting for her. Anxiously, if not fretting, was a term springing to mind.

He had refilled the oil lamps and replaced the candles that had burned up. He had thrown new coals in the iron cast pots and Josephine had brought him another bottle of wine he hadn’t yet opened. He had tried to create the perfect ambiance for – he sighed. Yes, for what exactly? A romantic rendezvous. That was the word Josephine had used for it and she had let it attend with a little conspiratorially wink. He wished she hadn’t done that, both the acts of uttering the remark and giving him that not to misunderstand blink. It made him feel even more insecure than he already did. The problem was, he hadn’t the faintest idea how such a thing as a romantic rendezvous was supposed to look like or happen. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to act?

And how, by Andraste’s ashes, had Evelyn’s perfectly innocent and casual sounding remark of seeing him again after her bath had turned into this? He hadn’t regarded it as such at first and he blamed the Ambassador and the Spymaster he did by now. They had been smirking behind their glasses of wine, dealing him looks his mother would have called “as old as the world”. He’d sooner call them impish and meddlesome.

And besides that, he had the suspicion Evelyn knew way better than he how to handle this kind of challenge. She might have been raised in a Circle, for one reason or another she seemed to be much more world wise than he was. Perhaps it were her noble genes, automatically springing into action and telling her what to do. But, whatever the case, he couldn’t compete with her. Not with her charming attitude, her dazzling laugh, not with the apparently easy way she got on with people. He, in contrast, had buried himself in his duties in an almost hermit kind of way and now he regretted that. He wasn’t a stranger to love and relationships but all that had been a long time ago and amorous trysts had played no significant part in it.

Thinking about it, it had almost been – business-like. Making love to the few women he had had a relation with in his past had been pleasant, certainly. But, come to think about it, hot passion had never played a major role. And they never had managed to make his mind reel and his heart quiver by simply darting past. Or by even thinking about them. He had never felt anything for whatever woman he now felt for Evelyn. He admitted it made his head swim, but at this very moment he wanted to keep said head clear. The last thing he needed was making a fool of himself.

‘You don’t have to be nervous, Cullen,’ Josephine had said reassuringly, sensing his tension. She had given him a light encouraging tap on his wrist. ‘It doesn’t need a genius to see she cares for you. Just be your charming self.’

‘My _charming_ self,’ he had scoffed, ‘then I’ll first have to find that part of me.’

‘Now now, Cullen, you’re selling yourself short,’ the Ambassador had gently chided him. ‘You don’t know half how charming you can be. You just have to follow your heart.’

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ he had muttered reluctantly. ‘At least you´ve had an Orlesian education. You know how to handle those things. I´m afraid that, when I follow my heart, I will end up on a never-ending roundabout or get lost in my own tracks, too afraid to say what I really feel. Or stumble over my own words,’ he had added grudgingly.

He had been quite astonished he had so easily confided in her. But then again, she was not only the Ambassador but also a woman who had experience with romance. And she was about the only one who hadn’t teased him openly with his feelings for Evelyn. She took him seriously. She had subtly changed something in the arrangement of the candles and the glasses on the tabletop, one way or another made the tableau look more appealing with just a few adjustments. _I suppose that’s meant with “a woman’s touch”_ Cullen had thought absentmindedly, captivated with her swift experienced movements.

‘Your heart, Cullen,’ Josephine had continued smoothly, ‘is always telling the truth and showing you the right path to follow. There is no roundabout if you go straight.’ She had given him a heartening smile. ‘And do you really doubt her feelings for you?’ While he was still searching for an adequate answer she had laughed her infectious laugh. ‘Of course you do because you’re a man in love. But you’ve read her letters. They give witness of a deep affection, if not a burning infatuation.’ His eyes had flown wide at that point and Josephine’s laugh had acquired a mischievous note. ‘Did you really believe Leliana hadn’t read those as well?’

He had been too befuddled to get really angry. ‘And shared the juicy information,’ he had managed rather crossly.

‘Of course!’ Josephine had giggled. ‘It was too good not to. Even the Spymaster and the Ambassador need some distraction now and again. And the Inquisitor’s words directed to you were like a ray of light in a dark world. It was very – endearing.’

‘I’m sure Evelyn will be thrilled to find she’s been so accommodating,’ Cullen grumbled in his best attempt at being sardonic.

‘I live to please,’ Josephine said with a little bow and a twinkle in her eye. ‘I’ll make certain you won’t be disturbed.’ And with that she had taken her leave. And he had started pacing, anxiously awaiting Evelyn’s return.

-

Finally, after what had felt like ages but in fact only had been less than an hour, Evelyn arrived in a cloud of violet-scented perfume; her copper coloured hair was still damp and shone in the dim light like old gold and she radiated that joy of living that had caught his attention the first time he had seen her. And had swept him off his feet the very moment. While he watched her approach with that striking step that almost made her look like she was dancing, his heart swelled with delight. Absently he noticed she carried an oblong parcel with her. He remembered she had said there was something she wanted to give to him but right now he was much more interested in her actual presence than in whatever gift she had in store for him.

‘I feel like reborn,’ she greeted him cheerfully when she stepped into the gazebo. ‘Nothing like a hot bath after a long dusty trip to make you feel like an actual human being again.’

‘You certainly looked refreshed,’ Cullen said rather awkwardly, ‘and you smell nice.’ It earned him a smile that made his heart skip a few beats. Again. He turned to open the bottle of wine but she checked his hand.

‘Like I mentioned earlier, I have something for you. And I’d like to give it to you before we start to enjoy a glass of wine.’

Before he could refuse, she presented the parcel with a brittle lopsided grin. ‘I hope you’ll like it.’

She was a little nervous and hoped whole-heartedly he would appreciate her gift. He never would believe it, but right now she felt as insecure as he did. She knew that with this present she trespassed on the confidential information of his past he had given her, but at the same time she so hard wished it to be an encouragement, no, even a declaration of her admiration for him. For her feelings of – she didn’t dare to think further. She swallowed hard.

It resembled the encouragement for what he had forced himself to undergo, she told herself and she knew that was true. For his fast determination to change. To be a better man.

Somewhat bemused he let go of the bottle and accepted the package she had as good as forced into his hands and noticed, the moment he touched it, it felt light and flexible and was wrapped in precious silk. He frowned; what present could be hid in silk? It kindled his curiosity. When he unfolded the piece of cloth, he revealed a large feather that dimly glowed and pulsated in the mellow light. Soft colours flared in the flickering flames of the candles and lamps, coming to life under the warm reddish glow like precious gems glistening in the heat of a fire. It was a thing of beauty but he had no idea what it was. He looked mystified from the object to her.

‘It’s a phoenix tail feather,’ Evelyn explained. ‘I found it, well, retrieved it from the very creature in The Approach.’ Her eyes fluttered from the feather to him and back. ‘It’s meant as a symbol.’ His face still resembled a question mark. ‘You’re familiar with the myth of the phoenix?’ she ploughed on, her nervousness increasing.

‘I believe I am,’ he said, still not grasping what she was aiming at.

‘It’s said the creature burns up in one bright flame from within its self made shell but rises again from its own ashes.’ She worried her lip, ostensibly keeping her attention on the feather and avoiding his face. ‘It made me think of you.’

‘Of me?’ His puzzlement grew.

‘Yes, of you.’ She kept focusing her eyes on the iridescent feather. ‘You’ve had so much to endure. The horrible events in the Ferelden Circle, the debacle in Kirkwall, all the dilemma’s you had to struggle with. And so, forgive me if I understood wrongly, you built a shell around you, as it were, to protect you from your pain and the sour taste of the mistakes you were certain you made. You hid in your self-made fortress. But all the while you sensed you weren’t happy with it, with how you filled your life, with the choices you made, the orders you had to follow. So, after ample contemplation, you made the radical decision to cut with your old life.’ She flashed him a short look before she fixed her eyes once more on the phoenix tail feather. ‘And not only with the life you lived but with your old self, the one you weren’t happy with. You made the decision to knock down the walls you had erected around your very essence. It takes a strong mind to do that.’

He made a gesture as if to interrupt her but she didn’t let him.

‘Please hear me out,’ she pleaded in a way he had never had heard her talk before and automatically he shut his already opened mouth. She had sounded vulnerable and it not only mesmerised him, it upset him. This wasn’t like her.

‘You made the drastic choice to resign as a Templar,’ she went on, almost whispering. ‘You even drove it as far as to stop taking lyrium, notwithstanding the problems that brought you, because the stuff would keep you leashed and tied to your Templar life. So, in a way, you burned your history, burned who you were, burned the person you didn’t want to be any longer. But from the ashes of the pyre of your history rose a new man, rose the Cullen I came to know. The Cullen I admire. The Cullen I - ’

She broke off the sentence. She curled her fingers and for a moment she hesitated as if she wanted to continue her cut short words. But instead she swallowed back the words. It didn’t escape him, however, no matter how befuddled and blown away he was with what she told him. He could take a good guess at what she had meant to say and it made his heart flutter.

After a few seconds she resumed, ‘You are the personification of the Phoenix born again.’ Although he still didn’t react, she persevered heroically, ‘So I hope that every time you look at the feather it will remind you of the many difficult but successful steps you have taken in your will to change and of the inner battles you fought and have won. How you put up the courage to burn your old self and allowed yourself to go and find a new start. No matter how painful that was, and still is.’ She hung her head and started to fidget with her fingers because he still stayed silent. She started to panic. _He is taking it completely wrong. I shouldn’t have done this. What was I thinking?! This is far too tender a subject! You stupid idiot!_

The reason Cullen had said nothing, was because his throat had been screwed shut with all the emotions that rushed to the surface and he was searching frantically for words. Finally he mustered the courage to stretch out his free hand and he lifted her chin to force her to face him. ‘Is this how you see me?’

The moment he saw her expression he realised she misinterpreted his words. Her frantic reaction was even more evidence. ‘I’m sorry,’ she squeaked, ‘it was not my intent to insult you. I wanted to emphasise how much I respect what you have done, how much –

He silenced her by moving his fingers to her mouth. He desperately searched for something to utter his gratitude for what she had given him. Because she had granted him with so much more than just a present. ‘Every time I will look at this feather it will remind me of the woman who thought me worthy enough to grace me with such a precious gift,’ he said hoarsely, ‘the woman who proved her _self_ to be worthy to think about what I told her and not condemn me for what I’ve done. I don’t deserve this praise.’

‘Cullen –‘ she started but he didn’t let her.

‘You understood me. You listened to my rambling and actually understood me.’

‘You weren’t rambling, you were pouring out your heart and you deserve all the praise –‘

He interrupted her once more. ‘You have given me hope. Beside this wonderful present you’ve given me the even more precious gift of hope.’ His fingers now moved to cup her face in a tender hold.

‘Hope ..?’ she echoed.

He smiled tenderly. ‘Yes, hope. You’ve given me the hope I can indeed be a better person. I fear I’m still not the man you take me for but you’re gift and you’re words give me the courage to strive for that goal.’ His eyes wandered to the beautiful feather of the creature that for some reason or another resembled him. And he could see her train of thinking and felt so grateful for it.

And then, without thinking any further, he bent over and captured her lips in the softest of kisses. And again the surge of electricity turned into a blazing fire. He had never felt more invigorated in his whole life. To hear her telling him how she had taken his sudden blurted confession and turned it into a heroic tale of conquering his weaknesses made him feel like flying up to the skies. He had never before felt more lifted and light in his entire life. He had never before felt such infatuation. He loved her, oh sweet Andraste, he loved her and he wanted to tell her but at the same time he wanted to pluck the very words from her lips. Because by now he was convinced she felt the same. It gave him wings.

Evelyn gasped. She grasped his arm the moment he drew back. ‘Do that again,’ she breathed.

He caught her gaze and kept it. ‘Only when you tell me what you were wanting to say when you cut yourself short.’

 _Of course_ , she thought, half elated and half panicking, _even in the midst of his confusion he has caught that cut off sentence. What were you expecting?!_

And, yes, he wanted to hear the words out loud. His hope wasn’t just built upon the way she looked upon his history, but also upon his present being, fragile it might be. But, as she had put forward and he had accentuated, there was hope. He suddenly felt much more confident.

Picking up courage, she looked him straight in his eyes and whispered, finally finishing the sentence she, as he had appreciated, had had in mind but hadn’t dared utter before, ‘the Cullen I love.’

Without a warning he attacked her lips again, and, passionately this time, kissed her once more. ‘And I love you,’ he breathed, just now being able to spill his feelings. She groaned in answer and eagerly opened her mouth for him.

Somewhere in the background of his mind a voice screeched “She is a mage! She’s a monster! Beware!!”

And he stumped down on it. Never again Meredith would poison his mind. Never again he would be led by the fear of the gone wild apostates. Never again would he be attempted to succumb to bigotry; if there was one thing he had learned, it was he had lived his life in fear and that fear was based upon his experience of what had happened in Ferelden. An accident. An idiot who never should have been allowed to wreck his mind. An idiot who had been defeated by the Hero. And Meredith had fed that fear. Back then he hadn’t learned; it had taken the actions of a remarkable woman to open his eyes To convincingly force him to see Meredith for the dangerous deranged madwoman she was, before she had run down Kirkwall even more than she already had. Hawke.

And now another remarkable woman had come along to rattle his bones. He smiled inwardly. He didn´t doubt for a minute she would have acted like Hawke. No. She would have acted like herself. Her charming self.

He trailed his fingers along her face. ‘I never thought to find happiness again, let alone love,’ he confessed in a husky tone, ‘but if you let me, I will be your phoenix.’

She reciprocated his warm smile. ‘I couldn’t ask for more.’

He drew her firmly into his arms and kissed her once more. ´You made me find myself; you made me believe in myself. You made me believe in you.’

He led her to one of the chairs and set her down with all the chivalry he could muster. ‘Let me pour you a glass of wine, my lady,’ he smiled.

She gracefully bowed her head and with hardly suppressed glee she answered, ‘I’d love that. And, by the way, are you aware of the lovely accommodation the Inquisition has graced me with? No? Then, perhaps, we could explore that together after this glass.’

And, oh, how she enjoyed his blush.

And while she was tugging him to her “accommodations” he couldn’t help thinking that the awkward rendezvous had turned out splendidly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn't too much and that you like the gift I came up with. You can guess at what is going to happen in the next chapter :D
> 
> And next time more about Hawke and Fenris, I promise!
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for reading and for your support!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning before you’re going to read this: the M rate kicks in. I mean the juicy parts. If you don’t like that kind of stuff, please skip that part. Nothing too explicit, mind you, but I can understand if you don’t want to get involved with it. I will mark the text with a * when it starts to get tricky and again when it’s safe to read on.
> 
> And as always, and I cannot emphasise this enough, thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Wintersend 5

-

Cullen woke with a start and a hardly suppressed gasp. That was nothing new, it happened as good as every night but this time something seemed off. No, that was not the right phrase, the expression suggested something was wrong. His sudden waking might be due to the mattress he was lying on, so much softer than the cot he was used to, and to the lack of the never ceasing draft of air coming in through the chink where the wall of his chamber didn’t exactly fit with the roof, but you could hardly call that wrong. And then realisation hit home. He hadn’t woken up because of a nightmare but because of a movement. And suddenly all the remembrances of the night before kicked in. The so called romantic rendezvous that indeed had turned out as romantic as it could get and had ended in the most luxurious room Skyhold had to offer. That explained the mattress. And then the memory of the heated actions arose. His hot desire drenched in her moist warm surrendering. He couldn’t help letting out a soft moan but that was always better than the hopeless lonely cry with which he used to wake up. He forced himself to silence. He didn’t want his unexpected exhilaration to disturb her slumber. She looked too serene and he wanted to quench his thirst for peace just by taking in her expression. He realised he could look forever at her and never grow tired with the influence she unknowingly held on him.

Evelyn had turned in her sleep and had thoughtlessly snuggled close to him. That had been the movement that had wakened him. Her head was now resting against his shoulder and she had draped her arm around his chest. She mumbled something unintelligible and he couldn’t help smiling; it was so endearing. She, the Inquisitor, the one woman the whole world looked up to, at this precious moment almost acting like a toddler, lying close to him, holding him as if he was her teddy bear, after how she had given herself to him in such a passionate way... He cherished her even more by recalling how they had made love, how they had enjoyed each other. Lying in his arms, with that soft smile around her lips, she was not the Inquisitor, she was just a woman. No, not “just” a woman. The woman he loved. His woman.                 

They had left the curtains open and after the candles she had lit had burned down, the room was dimly lit by the light of the stars and the slither of the moon that hung high in the sky. He looked at her face that radiated nothing but peaceful contentment and in the dim light revealed her tousled copper hair that in this light almost looked like silver. He smiled. He might be awake but at least he had let her dream on. He hadn’t disturbed her.

His thoughts travelled back to the moment she had taken his hand and guided him out of the garden, through the deserted Great Hall, to the entrance of her personal residence. Somewhere halfway the stairs he had stopped her. He had turned her and grasped her shoulders. ‘Are you really certain you want to do this?’ His voice had sounded strained and insecure, even in his own ears. She had tilted her head. ‘Are you?’

He had always thought a woman’s body sacred and hers to give as an exceptionally exclusive gift and he didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. But her reaction made clear she thought the same about him. Her green eyes had looked so sincere in the dusk light that poured through the small windows into the stairwell. ‘Cullen, if you’re not comfortable with this and I go too fast, please just tell me. I don’t want to force you into anything _you_ don’t want or are not ready for.’

He had been touched by her consideration and the next moment answered her with yet another kiss and, acting on impulse, he had lifted her in his arms and carried her up the stairs to her room. Reverently he had slowly lowered her on her feet without letting go off her. ‘I love you, he had told her again, feeling liberated, exalted, and at the same time like a schoolboy, floating on sheer happiness. Her warm smile, so full of affection, had encouraged him. ´And I love you,’ she had whispered. And then, with an impish laugh she had twirled out of his arms, had lighted some candles and had taken the bottle he still carried with him and poured two glasses with the sweet red wine.

‘Are you certain you’re not elfish?’ he had asked, dazzled, remembering Sera’s eccentric actions. It had led to yet another merry laugh.

‘Who can tell,’ she had said with that specific twinkle in her eyes that drove him completely mad.

He had drawn her into his arms once more and whispered on her lips, ‘If so, promise me you won’t lose that part of you. Not ever.’

*He had laid her down with all the gentle attention he could muster and then had lost his schooled attitude. He couldn’t possibly fight his reserved feelings any longer. He almost shred the garment she wore and bared the soft flesh of her breasts. With adoration he had caught a nipple between his teeth and softly bit the swiftly hardening peak which had wrought an exalted cry from her lips. Feeling confident by her reaction he sucked and kissed that part of her while his fingers travelled their own path down the straight plain of her stomach to end up in the sacred triangle of her sex. The moment he touched her sensitive nub she arched her back and begged him for more.

‘Please, Cullen,’ she groaned and it invigorated him. His mouth followed his fingers and his tongue wrapped around her pearl, softly, but focused on his task. The sweet taste and the womanly scent she radiated almost drove him insane. Her moans and pleads made him work harder. Again she breathed his name. ‘I love you so much,’ she panted. And then he brought her to her climax. With a loud cry she came apart, her body writhed and trembled in the orgasm he had given her. Almost in the momentum she sat up and took him down again with him in her arms. She grabbed his shoulders in a desperate movement. ‘I need you,’ she panted, ‘please, Cullen, my love, I need you!’

He didn’t need any more encouragement. With a feral growl he entered her, and with a wild cry she took him in, deeper, ever deeper until he drowned in her and lost himself. Never before he had – *

‘Never before I have felt like this,’ he breathed on her cheek after he had emptied himself in her. And it was true; he had made love to other women before but never had it made him feel like this.

She embraced him hard. ‘And never have I.’

Evelyn sat up and reached for the glasses on the side-table. She proffered him one and he accepted. ‘Were you disappointed I was no virgin?’

He was surprised by her question. But then again, it was typical for her. The only answer could be an honest one. ‘No,’ he thus said, his eyes wide and sincere, ‘I couldn’t care less.’ He smiled and added, ‘I suppose it would have been totally different and not specifically better.’ He let his fingers trail along her face. ‘Why do you ask? Does it matter to you?’

He had been brought up with the idea a woman’s untouched state of being was the most precious thing she could bring into a marriage, until his eldest sister had made a fool of him by laughing so hard that she had tumbled off the haystack where he had caught her with her lover. For a time he had thought he wouldn’t be able to copy her ministrations because he had pledged himself to the Templar life at the age of fourteen but, yes, there had been that girl when he had gone to Kirkwall and he had barely been twenty. She hadn’t been a virgin either and, as now, back then he hadn’t been shocked. And other women had followed her. He thought he had loved them. By now he knew that was not true but in any case he had respected them.

‘No,’ Evelyn said, ‘but regarding your history...’

He had laughed softly and had taken her firmly into his arms. ‘If your virginity is such a hot issue you could be upset about the lack of mine.’

She had almost looked shocked and brought a hand to her chest. ‘Heavens no!’ she had cried out. ‘At your age? I would have been deeply worried! Besides that,’ she had added with a near sultry twinkle in her shining eyes, ‘I very much enjoyed your experienced ministrations. I clearly remember the awkward clumsy fumbling from my first time and, endearing it might have been, I’m glad I won’t have to go through _that_ anymore!’ She had laughed whole-heartedly and after that they had made love again. Wonderful breathtaking love.

There had been no talk of virginity whatsoever anymore and the thought of whatever women had evaporated with the feeling of her silken body and the sweet scent of her skin.

-

And now he lay on this too soft mattress, looking at her beautiful face, surrounded by that copper-coloured hair that, indeed, in this moonlight seemed silver, carrying that lovely smile, listening to her steady breathing, feeling the light touch of her hand upon his chest. He had never felt this happy in his entire life.

-

In contrary to Cullen and Evelyn, Hawke had lived through a bad night, as she had done so many times of late. She had hardly slept at all and the little interludes of sleep between waking had been filled with nightmares. With a fierce headache she walked out of her room, crossed the large hall, while stubbornly, if not with a generous splash of loath, ignoring the gathered nobles, and specially avoiding the arrogant figure of Vivienne. ‘ _Oh my sweet dear, you’re but just a hedge-mage, aren’t you. You so lack the proper education of a circle enchanter. No wonder you started all this uproar_ ,’ she had said on their first, and if Hawke had anything to say about it, last meeting. ‘Well, you know best,’ she had managed, thinking, _thank all the gods I am indeed but a hedge-mage without your bias education and have had all the freedom of proper reasoning._ She descended the stairs leading to the courtyard. The moment she entered the space Cassandra caught up with her. ‘Messere Hawke, Champion,’ she started, ‘there’s something I was meaning to ask you.’

Hawked let out a small sigh. ‘Please, just call me Marian,’ she said, her voice thick with fatigue. ‘Messere sounds too formal after our trip and what we went through and the title of Champion has run old.’

Cassandra smiled half-heartedly. ‘I can understand that. I used to be the Right Hand of the Divine but that title also isn’t accurate anymore.’ She paused for a moment but then pressed on and came to the point, as was her nature. ‘Why did you let Anders live?’

Hawke frowned which didn´t do anything to lighten her headache. ‘An interrogation after all?’ _Maker, I´m not in the mood for this_ , she thought.

Cassandra frantically fluttered her hands. In fact she looked almost crestfallen. ‘No!’ she hurried to say. ‘Not at all! It, well, it just puzzles me. After what he did ...’

Hawke stared into the distance. The suppressed memories of that fateful night all submerged in one big wave. She bit her lip in an attempt to hold in a shout of despair. ‘Have you ever been forced to judge someone close to you? Someone you considered a dear friend? To condemn such person to death? Even worse, to be his executioner?’

‘I, er, no,’ Cassandra had to confess. ‘As a matter of fact, there are few persons I had to judge, let alone condemn. And never one I considered a friend.´

Hawke started walking again, at the same time trying to gather her wits. ´Anders had saved the lives of my companions several times after numerous battles, not to say he dragged me off the threshold of death after my fight with the Arishok. And he ran a clinic in the poorest part of Kirkwall, devoting his life to the people who weren´t able to stand up for themselves.´ She stopped and rubbed her neck in an effort to lessen her headache. ´It´s complicated.´ She shot Cassandra a brittle smile. ´You must not forget the situation I found myself in. I stumbled into a terrible row between Meredith and Orsino. At the same moment Anders blew up the Chantry and I knew at that very moment that was mostly due to that deranged spirit he had invited into his – head, existence, whatever.’ Her face contorted at the memory of that dreadful night and right away a bolt of pain shot through her brain. She stifled a moan. ‘Immediately after, Meredith invoked the right of annulment. I couldn’t let that happen; the Circle wasn’t involved at all with the disaster. The reason I decided to defend the mages had nothing to do with me being a mage. The woman was completely deranged. Infected by red lyrium, as we found out a little too late. She was crazy to begin with, but the red lyrium did nothing to remedy that. Rather the opposite.’ She let out a cynical snort.

Cassandra nodded. ‘I know. That much Cullen has told me.’

Hawke fiddled with the cuff of her tunic. ‘I’m sorry, I got distracted. To answer your question: I suppose I wanted Anders to pay for his horrible action. To let him face the consequences of what he had done.’ She sighed once again. ‘At that moment I couldn’t foresee what would happen.’ She looked so forlorn that Cassandra almost wanted to put her arms around her. Hawke tilted her head and continued, ‘I knew he was struggling with himself, or better, with his spirit, that he had never really wanted to blow up the Chantry and kill so many innocent people. Nevertheless, I wanted him to face – ha – justice.’ She stared ahead. ‘At that moment I couldn’t anticipate Orsino’s betrayal and the unsavoury fight against Meredith. Anders just slipped away. As much as you, I suppose, I want to find him and bring him to justice.’ She blew out some air. ‘Justice,’ she murmured, ‘the word alone leaves a sour taste in my mouth.’

They had ended up at the entrance of the tavern. Cassandra took Hawke’s arm. ‘Can I buy you a drink, Champ- Marian?’

Hawke turned her head and looked at the Seeker. A smile spread along her face. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know it’s quite early but I fancy a whisky. Sometimes a draught of strong liquor helps you to face the day.’ _And perhaps it will help to fight this damned headache._

Cassandra laughed out loud. ‘I’ll join you.’

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. I promised you Fenris and I failed you. I’m so sorry. Will you believe me when I tell you he will be the lead figure in the next chapter..?
> 
> Still, I hope you have enjoyed this one!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last: Fenris.
> 
> Enjoy!

Wintersend 6

-

He reined in his horse after they had conquered the steep pass. Both man and animal puffed out a heavy breath; the warm moisture hung like a mist in the cold air. Affectionately he tapped the animal on its long neck and received a soft neigh back. He had been surprised horseback riding had come so naturally to him and even more surprised he had taken a liking to the steed. Undoubtedly Varric, had he been here, would have stated it was due to his elven nature and, even more indubitably, he would have dismissed that with a derisive snort. Nevertheless, he grudgingly had to admit it probably held at least some truth. With a wan smile he acknowledged it was hard to shake off the dwarf’s influence. He could not deny he had been the glue that had kept their mishmash band together for all those years, even more so than Marian, although Varric had always given her the credit. He returned his attention to the horse. ‘It has been a hard ride, my friend,’ he murmured gently, ‘but it seems we’ve finally reached our goal.’

The afternoon was turning towards evening and the sun was starting to descend behind the mountains he had crossed to get here. Indeed, the air was cold but even at this height he could feel, and even more smell, spring was approaching. Fragile looking flowers had worked their way through the thick layer of snow and the very air seemed to tingle. It made breathing very pleasurable, as if his lungs got filled with a promise of new life. Nevertheless, he couldn’t shake off the disquiet that had held him in its grip since he found that disturbing note. Involuntarily he shivered and drew his fur lined cloak faster around his body.

From his vantage point he looked down at the impressive castle that took most of the space on the slopes. Or rather: between the slopes. He had to admit he was in awe. Beneath the bright blue freezing sky stood a fortress that could withhold even the mother of all sieges. It was vast, and not only as vast as to even hold spaces to grow food and pens to breed animals, but vast in the way of hardly comprehensible. Its towers stood out like indomitable sentinels, its strong walls looked back with the conviction of being insurmountable; he didn’t doubt for a second its guards matched the impression. Of course they would. He understood Cullen was their Commander and he knew the man as indomitable as this stronghold looked, and thus the guards under his command would not only be strong but also intelligent and utterly vigilant. The man had shown his prowess in the night – in that night. At the moment he had seen the light and found the courage to defy Meredith and had chosen to fight against her. Indomitable, though at the same time not without wisdom. He flinched. He wanted to chase the memories of that awful night Kirkwall turned into a bloody turmoil away. He urged his horse on to walk down the last mile it took to reach the gates. 

To reach his woman.

‘There will be stables down there,’ he told his new friend, ‘warmth and food. Just one more mile.’ His lips pursed into a harsh line. _His woman._ Could he still call her that? It was obvious to him something was wrong but he couldn’t fully grasp the nature of the problem, nor how deep it ran. He didn’t know what to expect, not even how to feel, except that the situation disturbed him greatly. But he was certain Marian needed his help, no matter how hard she had tried to keep him out of it. That was the reason he had travelled all this distance at high speed.

-

Lady Josephine was in a very good mood today. She had received a letter from Lady Seryl of Jader, promising the Inquisition could make use of her trebuchets and sappers; in fact the troops were already heading for Adamant Fortress with their siege equipment. And, besides that, rumours were flying through Skyhold. From the barracks via the kitchen and the stables to the nobles’ quarters and back. Everybody spoke in loud whispers and with merry giggles about the Inquisitor and the Commander who had spent the night together. There were already speculations about a betrothal. Josephine had no doubt Evelyn would giggle, or rather laugh wholeheartedly with the others, but she couldn’t wait to see Cullen’s reaction. She pictured a permanent blushing face with eyes that vainly tried to look stern but instead couldn’t hide mild bewilderment and beneath that happiness. She couldn’t help smiling broadly. After all, she had given him advice the evening before, about how to handle the situation. She had thought (and tried to make clear) he made a too heavy issue out of it and he should shut out all the difficult reasoning and just plunge into the love he felt for Evelyn. Apparently, he had in the end. Or else, the Inquisitor had just dragged him to her room and had forced him to forget his trepidations.

If possible her smile broadened even more. She really couldn’t wait to hear the story.

With reluctance she returned to the task at hand.

She had just finished her last letter for the day, when a knock came on her door and one of the gatekeepers entered her office.

‘I’m sorry, Lady Ambassador, but there’s someone here to see you.’

With some difficulty she suppressed an annoyed sigh. She had hoped to call it an early day for a change but it seemed her well-earned glass of wine had to wait a little longer. The gatekeeper ushered in a cloaked and hooded person and Josephine automatically produced a professional smile. ‘How can I help you?’

While the person walked towards her, he removed his hood and cloak altogether and her eyes fell on the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. Her breath hitched. Only the experience of years of staying at the Orlesian court, made her accomplish to change in an instance the hitch into a small cough. The experience, however, didn’t help to hide her expression in full. Her eyes flew wide and she had a hard time not to stare slack jawed when he ended up standing before her desk. As a matter of fact she could but just manage to close her mouth and force her lips into a charming smile. She knew exactly whom she was dealing with. There was no mistaking that tall and lean frame and graceful posture, the unfathomable deep eyes, ( _brooding, Varric? Really?_ That _was the best term you could come up with? It’s obvious you are no woman_ ), that unruly mass of white hair, and even less those elegant lines swirling about his arms. And thus she immediately recognized him from the stories the dwarf had told. In her opinion they didn’t do this elf any credit by far. She was stunned.

And then he started to speak and she was in for another shock.

‘My apologies,’ he said with a small polite nod, ‘it was not my intent to disturb you but the guard insisted I’d see you.’

‘That is more or less customary with new visitors,’ Josephine said faintly while she thought, gobsmacked, _dear Maker, with such a voice at your disposal you can turn all the expensive diplomats out of the house! A voice like that could persuade Celene and Gaspard to forget their hostilities, embrace each other and share the throne of Orlais for eternity in solid harmony. A voice like that could bring down Corypheus._

‘My name is Fenris,’ the hypnotising voice continued, ‘and I am looking for Marian Hawke. I was hoping to find her here in Skyhold.’

‘Have you ever considered a position as a diplomat?’ she let slip without thinking.

He raised one eyebrow in confusion. ‘Excuse me?’

 _Oh Maker_! Determinedly she pulled herself together and stood abruptly. ‘Indeed, Marian Hawke is here in Skyhold. I suppose she is with Varric in the tavern at this hour of day. Come, I will show you the way.’

‘I don’t want to give you any more trouble,’ Fenris started but Josephine airily waved her hand.

‘It’s no trouble at all. Besides, I think it wise to accompany you through the Great Hall. Or “escort” is perhaps a better word; a walk through the throng of inquisitive nobles can be like running the gauntlet. They didn’t bother you yet, did they?’

‘Apart from a few probing looks, no, they didn’t,’ Fenris reassured her. ‘And after having been an inhabitant of Kirkwall’s Hightown for many years, I am used to much worse, believe me.’

 _In which case you apparently never met the likes of the Iron Lady_ , Josephine mused. She offered him her arm and a brilliant smile. ‘Let’s go,’ she said and thought, _and let’s hope_ she _is still lingering in her room, standing before her closet while trying to conquer the vast problem of what to wear for dinner tonight._

-

But, of course, her worst fear came true after just four steps into the hall.

‘You are the consort of Marian Hawke, aren’t you?’

As far as Josephine knew, no-one till now had tried to mix honey and venom into one mighty mixture until right now, pressed together in one voice. This voice. Aargh. It seemed to her the bitch had been waiting for the occasion; she probably had witnessed Fenris’s arrival and, though he had concealed his features in the heavy cloak, she had drawn her conclusions. She was not only irritating, arrogant and, well, insufferable at most times, she was also very cunning, intelligent and percipient. Many a time the Iron Lady challenged her ambassador qualities and let her almost forget how diplomacy was supposed to work.

And now she practically pounced upon them, or better: him. Josephine tried not to cringe. She already opened her mouth to shoo Vivienne away but Fenris beat her on the spot.

He cocked his head slightly and his face assumed an amused expression. ‘Consort? That sounds – quite interesting, if not important,´ he said neutrally.

The sarcasm escaped Vivienne completely. ‘And so it should, darling,’ she drawled, ‘because you are all that stands between your dangerous hedge-mage and the rest of the world. You are the only one who can keep her in check. You must be aware of that grievous fact.’

‘Must I now.’ Fenris’s voice had obtained a sharp edge but that also failed to catch Vivienne’s attention. She might be percipient, sometimes the simplest signs escaped her. ‘I was not aware I had taken the vows of a Templar. Nor that Hawke needs any supervision whatsoever.’

‘But of course she does, dear.’ Vivienne radiated the unbearable tone of the ones being in the right. Or at least having the conviction of being in the right. ‘She is a mage, and moreover a mage who lacks the proper education!’ she went on remorselessly, not giving heed to Fenris’s dark expression. ‘You should be well aware of your responsibility. After all, you let her run loose once already and look where that led to. I can understand that love is blind, although I don’t recommend it, but you should stay vigilant. We can’t cope with more trouble than she stirred up already. She started the mage rebellion, after all.’

Josephine feared a furious explosion; some deadly class of how to tear out someone’s heart out of their ribcage could be afoot.

But Fenris stayed quiet and looked at Vivienne as if she represented some rare breed of insects.

‘Since you have taken the liberty to interfere my stroll with the Ambassador without asking for my permission, or hers for that matter, I think you could at least grant me the favour of telling me your name and position at this,’ ( he hesitated only for a moment), ‘court.’ It had taken him not five heartbeats to understand what she represented. A peacock. A perhaps convenient, but nevertheless a damn expensive peacock. And, of course, with strings attached. Very important and powerful strings, which must be the reason why she was here.

Wide-eyed Josephine witnessed how he handled the Iron Lady and almost fainted. _Definitively diplomat material._

If possible, Vivienne straitened her shoulders even more and she held her head so high it would lose the connection to her neck and float right into the air after one more too egotistical remark, filled with righteousness and downright being right and being convinced of being right at all times. ‘I, darling, am Enchanter Vivienne, Court Mage to the Empire of Orlais but you could also refer to me as Madame de Fer.’

Fenris delicately pursed his lips and Josephine would gladly gamble away what was left of her family estates that he was very hard trying not to burst into laughter. He delicately removed some non-existence speck of dust from his trousers. ‘Are you now,’ he reacted and immediately after launched the attack.

‘And that, apparently, makes you think you can condemn Hawke’s decisions and understand the situation in Kirkwall at the time of the disaster. Because, as I understand, you were ever so happy to hide yourself in your precious Circle so you couldn’t be bothered by taking what sort of decision whatsoever. Let alone any responsibility.’ He smiled bleakly. ‘I applaud you with your firm conviction. Indeed, you haven’t caused anything. If it had been for you, mages were still treated like prisoners, or even worse: like criminals. Or should I say slaves. You´re own fear gives you away. Without your precious Templars you are afraid to give in to the temptation. You are more afraid of yourself than of the demons you try to avoid. You use the Templars to silence your own weakness.’

Both Vivienne and Josephine stared speechless at him. But Fenris had gone through a lot of trouble along the years and had learned the true values of life through the hard way. He was here to drag the woman he loved out of a lot of misery, whatever misery that might be, and if, along the way, he happened to stumble along a too cocky mage, he would gladly give her a concussion to make her see, or at least get her out of the way. He trusted Marian. She had even taught him to trust other mages; and here he encountered a mage who was willing to leash herself because she didn’t trust her owns abilities. Weak woman, indeed.

‘My Marian isn´t like you.’

His expression now was almost pitiably.

‘My woman, my consort, in your words, is strong of mind and doesn’t need a leash to keep her away from demons and their whispers. It speaks more of your own weakness you so called fear for her.´ His dark look turned into a scowl. ´And since you weren’t present at the night you’re referring at, I advise you to withhold from any comment whatsoever.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I have heard your name over the past years. I know who you are. A mage who strives to gain control, a mage so frightened of her own talents that she has become a greater supporter of the Templars’ control than the Templars themselves.’

And now he showed his real feeling. ‘My Marian doesn’t need the overseeing of Templars,’ he growled with flaming eyes. ‘My Marian is a woman who knows her strength and her limits. She doesn’t need me, or anyone else, to let her know the gravity of her responsibilities. She is very much aware of those, more, I bet, than you are. Because, as I see it, you’re so scared of what you can do, or worse, can become, you hurl yourself into the custody of people you think can keep you safe. Because you are afraid you cannot trust yourself. You are weak. She, on the other hand, is in charge of her own actions, whether magical or otherwise. She is too wise to leave her capability into the hands of the likes of Meredith. She is strong.’ He eyed her with a dark look. ‘And you are not.´

Vivienne was thunderstruck for long precious moments. Maker knew she was not a bigotry kind of person – she didn’t make any difference between elves and humans – but this elf, this beautiful irresistible and insufferable elf played on her very nerves. ‘I didn’t know Kirkwall elves were so rude,’ she at last said pointedly.

Fenris cocked an eyebrow. ‘And I wasn’t aware the Inquisition mages were this arrogant,’ he parried, ‘I thought for certain only the Tevinter ones had been infected with that virus.’

Vivienne bristled. ‘Such impudence!’ she shrieked. ‘Do know I don’t take insults against my person lightly!’ She knew she was acting childishly, which fuelled her anger even more, but it was hard to deal with this elf. He was even worse than that awful demon Cole the Inquisitor had foolishly allowed to stay.

‘Really?’ reacted Fenris frostily. ‘Then perhaps you should know _I_ don’t take insults against my _consort_ so lightly, Madame le Fer. And if you’ll excuse me now, I have more important business to attend to.’ With that he turned on his heels and headed for the exit.

After she had thrown a venomous look at the almost combusting Vivienne, Josephine hastened after him. She caught him just before the large doors. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she breathed.

But Fenris shook his head. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Ambassador, you’re not responsible for the nonsense the people in this fortress talk.’ He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. ‘But if you don’t mind, I really would like to find Marian right now.’ His face contorted in a grim smile. ‘My consort, I mean of course,’ he added cynically.

Josephine led him through the doors and for a moment they lingered at the top of the stairs leading down into the courtyard. ‘I am really sorry,’ she couldn’t help repeating.

Fenris sighed. He looked down at the open space down the stairs, now wrapped in dusk, and at the sparse light coming out of the windows of the tavern the Ambassador had mentioned. The tavern in which he hoped to find the woman he loved.

‘For a long time I thought mages to be insufferably arrogant,’ he said pensively, ‘I mean, after what I had to live through in Tevinter.´ A quick smile lifted a corner of his mouth. ´That, of course, was my conviction before I met Marian Hawke.´ His hands grasped the stone parapet. ´I must confess I never thought they could be so arrogant and at the same time so brittle and insecure.´

´Insecure?! Vivienne? You can’t be serious!´

Fenris turned and gave her something that she could only define as a cheeky grin. ‘Think about it, put her to the test and you will be surprised. I can only say she is the most frightened mage I have ever encountered. And now, if you please, may I finely be allowed to find my -  ‘ he closed his eyes. ‘I hate to repeat the word..’

Josephine nodded. She gestured to the lighted tavern with the inviting opened door. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you,’ she said and after a short and not so diplomatic consideration she added, ‘I hope you will find what you are looking for.’

-

As the Ambassador already had assumed, Varric had hauled Hawke into the “Herald’s Rest”, because, as he had stated, she was in dire need of a distraction. She had been unwilling but in the end had heeded his wish.

‘Only because you’re my best friend,’ she had reluctantly said.

‘I’ll turn that insult into a positive remark,’ Varric had laughed, ‘but only if you agree to play a game of Wicked Grace.’

‘With you and what other misfits?’

At that moment the Bull had stepped in. ‘What about me and my misfits?’ he had rumbled and Hawke had had no other option that to give in. With an accusing smirk she had tried to frame Varric. ‘This was all your idea from the start!’ But the Bull had planted his impressive hand on the table.

‘Hey! I see a woman in distress. I say, she needs some fun. Don’t blame the dwarf. If you have to blame someone, blame me.’

Hawke had looked the impressive Qunari up and down and said, ‘Look, handsome, I was forced to fight one Qunari in my life; I don´t ask for one more to battle, not you nor anyone of your people. It almost cost me my life once. Want to see the scar he left on my body?’

Bull frowned and it was an impressive frown. ‘What made you think I would want to fight you?’ her rumbled.

‘Well, for one, I killed your Arishok,’ said Hawke, somewhat taken aback by Bull’s lay back attitude.

‘Ha!’ Bull exclaimed. ‘For starters he was not _my_ Arishok and you can kill as many Qunari or other buggers as you want to, as long as you don’t bother me with it. Hey, you’re here to play cards, aren’t you?! Who cares about anything else. So, Miss, if you want to play Wicked Grace, we play Wicked Grace. I deal.'

Hawke cocked her head. ‘Do you now.’ She heard Varric take a deep sigh and at the same time the rumbling laugh of the Bull. ´Perhaps you deal and I look,´ he proposed. He pushed the deck of cards over the table, practically into her hands. ‘The Aratham still don´t trust you,´ he added with a fat wink.

´Why should they,´ said Hawke unperturbed, she had her eyes on the cards and seemed to count them while dealing them around, ‘after all, I’m not their best friend and I fear I’ll never be.’

And then her hands came to an abrupt hold and the cards got spread around as if the deck had exploded.

‘Hey!’ Krem complained in dismay but the hand of his commander clasped around his wrist as a vice at the same moment. His head turned. He had noticed the same little sound as Hawke had. Or better the lack of it.

The Herald’s Rest’s bard Maryden’s voice had only faltered for one heartbeat but it had immediately caught Hawke’s attention. Her eyes flew to the entrance. ‘O hell,’ she whispered.

-

It had taken Fenris a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the gloom in the tavern but fairly swift he had spotted her. His heart had flown into his throat and had skipped a few beats but with determination he had walked to her spot. She had looked at him as if she had expected him to turn up.

‘Fenris,’ she whispered. He hadn’t heard her saying his name out loud but had read the word from her lips.

On the other hand, Varric had been quite loud. ‘I know it would be juvenile to say this, and you know I’m right anyway, but, whatever, I will say it anyhow: I told you so, damn it! I told you he would come after you. And what now?’

Before Fenris could make any comment the tall Qunari, to his surprise, growled, ‘Shut up, dwarf, let those two sort it out.’

And then Marian got up and gave him a fragile smile.

‘We need to talk,’ he said, ‘but not here.’

She bit her lip and offered him her hand. ‘No, not here. Will you trust me? Follow me?’

He took her hand and let her lead him out of the tavern. Inwardly he shook his head. He had always trusted her, always had followed her. Why was she suddenly so insecure?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think about Vivienne as a pain in the ass and at the same time she is so much fun. I liked to write about the confrontation between her and Fenris; she is a pedigree mage-bitch and he looks right through her arrogant and, to be frank, fragile appearance. 
> 
> At least I suppose after all what happened in Kirkwall and after the four (apparently) years that went on after that and all the Corypheus drama, Fenris must have moved on. Besides that, I think we must give him the credit for standing by his woman. Well, I think he definitely is that type.  
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> PS I hope, my dear eriaale, that “worry” makes for a good middle-ground... I hope you agree.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again a new chapter. Enjoy it while it lasts. I'm in the middle of moving from one spot the other and I don't know when and/or whether I'll have access to the internet any time soon.
> 
> Fenris, how surprisingly, is a warm pool of understanding. On the other hand, Marian is a puddle of despair.

Wintersend 7

-

The cool evening air hit her like a cold shower but at the same time helped to quieten down her dangerously fast racing heart. The comment of Varric had infuriated her and the words of the odd Qunari had been confusing, but both voices turned into fading echoes while she led Fenris out of the warm tavern.

In a faint aftermath she thought: _strange Qunari indeed_. She hadn’t encountered the like of him in Kirkwall, not before and not during the disturbing uprising. She hadn’t even been aware she had stood glowering in a menacing way at the Bull, the first time she had met him, until Varric had nudged her and said, ‘Not every Horned Head is an Arishok, Hawke, let alone such an aggravating and trying one. You know, like the one lacking every sense of humour and/or sense of perspective. You choose. I vote for both descriptions. This one listens to the self-inflicted title of the Iron Bull and doesn’t care about whatever Arishok at all.’ On which said Iron Bull had burst into thundering laughter. ‘Ah, yes, that was a hoot! I had gladly paid good money to have witnessed his face when he found out he was bested by a mage!’ Hawke had regarded him coldly. ‘Oh yeah, quite a hoot. Lots of people lost their lives that night and I can show you an ugly scar to laugh some more about that hilarious event.’ But in answer the Qunari had slapped her jovially on her shoulder and offered her a drink that had dissolved her gullet. ‘I know. It was bad. Such is life. And I can guarantee life gets sucher every day. You know as well as I do. But you came out of  that fight as the hero. It earned you the title of Champion.’ ‘And much good that has done me,’ Hawke had croaked after she was done coughing. Which had caused another eruption of deafening laughter. It had become a pleasurable night after all. And after a day or two she considered Bull and his adjutant Krem as good friends. Together with the band of Chargers.

But all that melted away in the cold of the dusky night. In fact, the warmth of Fenris’s hand spreading into hers was the anchor that kept her connected to reality. She eagerly grabbed that anchor as if she was drowning, which, all grim determination and merry laughter put aside, was pretty much the truth. She was drifting, she was scared beyond compare; she needed his anchor but she hadn’t want to involve him because she was too frightened something bad would happen to him. Something bad because of her. Whatever “bad” could be. That irksome and threatening voice had told her there would be a whole range of “bad”. Again, you choose. Varric’s echoing voice was the last residue from the comforting pub to bounce around her disturbed mind.

And so, at this precious moment she seriously questioned her decision to run away. Yes, she was afraid something would happen to Fenris, but at the same time she recognised she needed him to preserve her sanity. And she really, _really,_ didn’t  want to hurt him. She had done harm too much already. At this point she could only hope he would forgive her. She daren’t look at him.

Fenris, on the other hand, living in a another world, one that wasn’t consumed with guilt, took her shoulders in a gentle grip and turned her around to let her face him. Even in the dim light she could discern the soft glimmer of his beautiful silvery green examining look; it almost undid her. But this was not the place. With force she pulled herself together. ‘Let’s get away from prying eyes,’ she squeaked. ‘I’m fairly certain Varric, for example, will try to spy on us.’

The elf smiled faintly, not certain if guilt didn’t play a prominent part. At least on her behalf. But he decided that could wait. So he said,  ‘I would be surprised if he didn’t. So where do you suggest we go?’

Marian took a deep breath and then let out a sound that lingered between a giggle and an indignant snort. ‘Ambassador Josephine made a serious effort to pen me in with the nobility; in fact she had already some very luxurious rooms prepared for me. But after some disturbing nights I refused to make further use of them,’ she said, her eyes shining with sudden glee. ‘I told her, as polite as possible of course, that nobles give me a rash and I would be very happy to settle with a room up the battlements, as far from the hustle and bustle as I could get. As I had done the first time I came here.’ She added, venomously, ‘And especially as far as possible out of the poisonous way of that snake called Vivienne and her snarky comments.’

‘Seems like a wise decision to me,’ Fenris agreed, composed. ‘She is a thorough bred bitch.’

Marian looked up in surprise. ‘So you met her.’

‘If you mean the same Enchanter Vivienne, Court Mage to the Empire of Orlais “but you could also refer to me as Madame de Fer”? Yes, in that case I met her.’

‘You don’t say,’ Hawke muttered weakly, trying to visualise the encounter but failing completely. How to imagine a collision between two so entirely different worlds?! She clenched her jaw. Between such powers of steely will and obstinacy. Between the clash of two continents. She was surprised Skyhold still stood. She could only hope Ambassador Josephine would do what she was best at and diplomatically would solve the problem. And calm Vivienne down.

 ‘There was no escaping her,’ Fenris explained, his dark sugar voice trailing her, while he followed her up the stone steps. ‘She practically pounced upon me.’

‘Ah, let me guess,’ Hawke sighed, glad with the temporary diversion and thus eagerly diving deeper into the subject. Though it felt like scratching at an itching scab. ‘She treated you to pressing warnings considering one extremely dangerous hedge-mage.’

They had reached the ramparts and she stopped for a moment, despite everything taking in with reverence the view that even at night was breathtaking. Or perhaps even more breathtaking right at this hour, especially now the almost full moon was pouring out her bright silver light over the high standing peaks and ragged slopes of the impressive mountains, turning the snow into sparkling diamonds.

Fenris halted at her side. As she did, he took in the wonderful view. But however he wanted to absorb the magical vision upon the surroundings and forget about everything that worried him, he couldn’t let go the pressing reason why he had come here. He would bring it gently, though. She seemed like a scared kitten, poised to flee at even one wrong movement or sound.

‘That’s quite accurate,’ he thus shrugged, as if he with that nonchalant movement could dismiss hers and his own distress, ‘and I basically answered she was very weak indeed, if she didn’t trust herself to fall under the spell of a demon and needed Templars at all times to restrain her.’

Hawke’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. ‘And yet you’re standing here. Unscathed. As a free man.’ Shaking her head and smiling at the picture in her head, she turned to lead him to her quarters.

Fenris shrugged once more while he followed her further along the ramparts. It still didn’t do anything to get rid of his anxiety. But he felt she didn’t notice and that worried him all the more. He tried not to show it. The last thing she needed was more concern. She was riddled with it enough as it was, he could sense. So, he neutrally said, ‘If she starts to throw stones, she must be prepared to expect a few back.’ He halted for a moment and then decided he’d better come clear. It wouldn’t help her if he kept beating about the bush. Nor him. And thus he bluntly blurted, ‘But I didn’t come here to defend you from arrogant frightened mages; you’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself.’

Marian sagged. ‘Of course,’ she mumbled. The diversion could only stretch that long. Between now and a few moments the accusations would flow. _The well earned accusations_ , she thought dismally. They had reached the room and she opened the door.

In the little time that had been available to her, Josephine had managed to change the austere, half dilapidated space into a lavish room, fit for a princess. Hawke had had to laugh when she had seen the alterations the first time she had crossed the threshold. _‘If you can’t drag Hawke to the nobles, we might as well drag nobility to Hawke,’ she had joked to Varric who had accompanied her. The dwarf had grinned back. ‘Don’t deny you liked the luxury of your old estate, Hawke.’ And of course he had been right._

The rubble had been removed, the leaking roof repaired and the chamber had been furnished with a comfortable four-poster bed, a snug corner with an inviting couch and soft chairs and several stylishly sculptured tables. One of them held a bottle of wine and a set of crystal glasses. Marian  busied herself with lightning a few candles and pouring wine until she couldn’t postpone the moment any longer. Fenris hadn’t moved or said anything and she clasped her hands in front of her and stared at her feet, avoiding his gaze. _Let the fight commence_.

‘I can understand you’re angry with me,’ she whispered, ‘you _must_ be angry.’ True, he hadn’t till now shown any signs of anger whatsoever but she couldn’t imagine he didn’t simmer inside.

The next moment she felt two strong arms around her; his familiar smell of wild forest mixed with that hint of jasmine was almost overwhelming when he pulled her close, as was the warm, rough velvet tone of his voice. ‘I am not angry with you.’

She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. ´You´re not?’ she asked in a small voice. She was almost in shock; this reaction was so contrary to her fears it put her off balance.

‘No. And I’ve never been,’ he said truthfully, ‘but I’m worried. Extremely so. This is nothing like you.’ His lips softly brushed her hair and he murmured, ‘What is wrong, Marian? Won’t you tell me?’

She wanted to stand here forever, pressed into his frame, with his comforting arms around her, fencing off all the perils of the world, but she owned him an explanation. ‘It’s difficult,’ she sniffed.

Gently he led her to the couch and sat her down. ‘I understand, you wouldn’t have fled otherwise. But can you at least try?’

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. And then burst out, ‘I can hear his voice, Fenris. He is talking to me. Mocking me. Laughing at me. Defying me.’ She screwed her eyes shut. ‘Threatening me.’

‘Who is?’

Fenris still sounded patient, although he could guess the answer. He had feared this all along.

Marian swallowed hard. ‘Corypheus.’ She heard him taking in a sharp breath. ‘It started as a whisper in the night,’ she carried on, ‘but soon it became very loud. And now I hear him even by day. I can’t shut him out anymore. It’s driving me crazy.’

Fenris took her hand. ‘You have to clarify,’ he said and she could simply feel how he tried to stay calm. ‘It sounds as if you’re hearing the Calling and I thought only Grey Wardens could hear that. You’re not a Grey Warden. And I can hardly believe your connection to your brother is fast enough to infect you. Besides the fact that would be ridiculous to start with.’ He tried, with all his might, to stay calm.

She shook her head. ‘It’s not the Calling. As far as understand that’s like a kind of song, the taint in the blood singing out, a way of telling  your time on this world has worn out, luring you into the Deep Roads to make a final stand against the Darkspawn so you can die with dignity. I, indeed, am not a Grey Warden. This is different.’ She squeezed his hand, not as an assurance but to have a foothold. ‘I am not a Grey Warden but I have my father’s blood running through my veins. The very blood that bound the creature and apparently was needed to free him.’ She heaved her head and the desperate look in her eyes almost paralysed him. ‘We didn’t kill him, Fenris, we freed him. I don’t know how; he seemed dead enough when we left him in that horrible fortress, but one way or another he got back to life, mightier than before, and now he is endangering the world.’ She bit her lip. ‘And he’s telling me it’s all due to me. That I’m just a weak little girl who couldn’t even save her own city, let alone slay a god, that I awoke him and gave him back his power.’ She tried to blink back her tears but failed. ‘He is telling me I am responsible for the deaths of my family and I will be the reason – ‘ At this point she faltered. She was close at breaking down.

‘Be the reason for what?’ asked Fenris, nearly inaudible, though he already knew the answer before she gave it.

‘The reason you will die. That you will die trying to save my life, vainly. That you will toss away your life for me.’

He embraced her hard. ‘Alright, now I understand why you left me behind. If some evil entity would try to convince me I would be the death of you, I presume I would have done the same.’ He leaned back again and cocked his head and let out a short humourless laugh. ‘As I remember well, I believe I was the one who stated you would be the death of me. Sorry,’ he added when he saw her forlorn expression, ‘I suppose I couldn’t help myself.’ He cupped her face. ‘I can haul you home but since I’m here anyway, we can as well fight the beast together with the Inquisition. Either way, I think, you win.´

´It´s not only about Corypheus.´ Marian quavered.

He frowned. ´Oh? There’s more?’

 _Even more than you can imagine right now,_ she thought, _but this is not the moment to bring_ that _up._ ‘I was afraid you’d get the impression I had fallen prey to a demon.’ She smiled mockingly. ‘Would have fallen for the Demon’s Call.’

He was silent for a moment and then lifted a corner of his mouth to show his trademark lopsided smile she loved so much. ‘I actually could take that as an offence,’ he rumbled with that mind-numbing rough velvet voice she loved even more, ‘you fearing I would think you’d fall for some petty demon’s promise.’

She reciprocated his smile, though a little unsteadily. ‘I was really a silly old twit to run away, wasn’t I.’

Now he laughed whole-heartedly. ‘I wouldn’t have said, but yes.’ He pulled her close again and kissed her tenderly. ‘But at least you’re my silly old twit. And please let’s keep it that way,’ he murmured on her lips. ‘I love you Marian. Maybe I do not say that often enough but know it’s true.’

She leaned her forehead against his. ‘I know. And I love you.’

She reached for the still untouched glasses and offered him one. After they had both taken a sip she suddenly said, feeling light-headed, ‘Hey, do you know there’s a mage from Tevinter here? And he claims he met you once. Please don’t explode.’

‘A mage from Tevinter?’ Fenris echoed nonplussed. ‘What’s he doing here? And what’s his name?’ He carefully put the glass back on the table.

‘Dorian Pavus,’ Marian answered, taking another sip. She hadn’t really feared Fenris would explode; she knew him better than that. Perhaps he hadn’t completely come to peace with his past, but nowadays he had learned to handle it well.

‘Pavus?!’ he cried out incredulously, surprising her. ‘I know that name. Danarius considered House Pavus a dangerous enemy.’ Surprising her even more, he smiled broadly. ‘How fitting one of their members would join the Inquisition. I don’t recall meeting this Dorian, however.’

‘He said it was only a short encounter in a marketplace. You managed to makr a huge impression on him, though. I should explain at this point he is totally into men. Like in considering women nice as companions but uninteresting as bed-buddies. Like in I’ll have to punch him in midair while he attempts to jump you.’

Fenris raised his brows in amusement. ‘You don’t say.’

‘Like in I’ll have to fight him and smash his pretty little face into a bloody pulp or at least give him a black eye when he looks hungrily at you which he undoubtedly will,’ Hawke went on vigorously. ‘And I’m dead serious.’

‘And more than a bit carried away,’ Fenris concluded.

‘Weeell, I perhaps should confess I told him it’s funny to admire the same tight ass together,’ Marian giggled, ‘but that can only go that far, of course.’ She felt light and liberated, now the heavy weight was lifted from her heart.

‘It’s certainly –- interesting, if not refreshing, to be the sex object for a change,’ Fenris deadpanned with a straight face, in fact feeling as light and liberated as his lover. ‘Perhaps we should see where it leads to. I mean, Isabela hasn’t been swooning over threesomes for nothing, I figure.’

Marian stared open-mouthed at him and then pushed her glass of wine into his hand. Vigorously, to be plain. ‘Please take another sip and come to your senses before I start to believe you’re serious,’ she yelled in exaspiration.

The wine got spilled over the costly carpet Josephine had been considerate enough to get placed over the cold broken flagstones when Fenris swatted the glass out of Marian’s hand and pushed her back upon the couch.

‘You know damn well you’re the only one for me and heaven knows you’re more than a handful,’ he growled before all other words got lost in a fiery bout of love-making. Some kind of passionate make-up sex, though there hadn’t been a fight to make up for. Make-up sex to drown all the fears and sorrows in one glorious outburst and devotion of the love they felt for each other.

-

And then he struck. And he struck with a definite blow.

-

Halfway the night Hawke awoke with a cry and knew at the very moment she was too late. She came too late to forestall his devilish ploy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm, cliffhanger..? Sorry! Especially since I can't promise to update soon.  
> But with me, you never know. So, please stay tuned.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading my scribbles and for staying with me. You don't know half how much I appreciate it!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I rendered a lot of people bewildered after my last chapter, I will now, in the midst of carving up old carpet, post a new one.
> 
> I love you all, don´t forget that!
> 
> Enjoy!

Wintersend 8

-

Solas dreamed and, as always as he dreamed, he dwelled in the Fade. And also as always, the Fade was refreshing, pure and whole and so different from the tiresome world of dust and pain and gruesome death he had to face in his waking hours. And then he perceived a disconcerting ripple in the fabric of his peaceful environment.

At first it was but a wisp of a voice, soft as bashful rain on spring leaves.

Then there approached an apparition, vague at the start, but soon shining and bright. An apparition he was very familiar with. He closed his eyes but knew that was a childish thing to do, a human reaction. Perhaps he had already lingered in the outside world for too long.

‘There is so much to repair,’ the voice said, already stronger than the moment before, cracked and old perhaps, but still mighty. ‘And I need your help.’

He knew he could not deny, although he very much wanted to. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘At this time just a small favour. Only you know what you may have to pay in the end, but this is not the time to discuss that. What I want from you is a diversion; a smoke-curtain, if you will. Just a little contribution to a greater action.’ The voice seemed to cock a head. ‘An illusion is perhaps a better word. Some tracks leading to a certain goal. I know you’re marvelous with horses.’

He had agreed. Of course he had agreed. However could he have refused? Choice was a luxury that belonged to another time and he didn’t even know whether that time had been happier than this one or just simpler.

He opened his eyes and rose from his plain cot. He had a task to fulfill.

-

Varric was happily scribbling away in his Hanged Man look-alike room near the Main Hall. Finally there were romantic developments to add some juicy interludes and spice up the till now too serious story. And besides that, the sudden appearance of Fenris gave him enough fodder for at least one exciting chapter. The quill hovered over the paper for some moments, while he contemplated Hawke’s disturbing and rather venomous remark, considering the elf, directed at the poor bewildered Dorian. (And he was quite certain the Tevinter mage would electrocute him if he, in fact, would use those expressions to describe his state of mind at that weighty moment). With a reluctant sigh he decided he would leave the considerably unsettling information, or better the not to misunderstand hint she had given, out of his story. To be honest, he himself was still upset by what she had blurted out in her anger or annoyance. Or both. No. Better drop that.

The night was passing rapidly and it wouldn’t be long before dawn would chase away the dark, but he didn’t care. Always put art before sleep, was one of his mottos and even had he wanted to, he could impossibly ignore the boost of inspiration that had hit him with a forceful whack. With all the words and sentences tumbling around in his head, he wouldn’t be able to get some sleep anyhow; he was definitely on a roll. So he frowned when he heard the door open and looked up irritably at the intruder. The frown turned into a surprised expression when he saw Fenris enter his apartment.

‘I am sorry,’ the elf said, ‘but I noticed a light and assumed you were still awake.’

Carefully Varric put his quill back into the inkwell. ‘How did you know to find me here?’

‘A guard told me this was your room.’

‘Ah. And what seems to be the problem? Insomnia? A sudden urge for rare Orlesian cognac? A lover’s quarrel perhaps..?’ That last option was uttered with a certain amount of eagerness.

Fenris didn’t notice, or he pretended not to. ‘I was hoping to find Marian here. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?’

Varric leant back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests and steepling his fingers. ‘So, a lover’s quarrel after all?’ He tried not to look too expectantly.

Fenris scowled at him. ‘No. On the contrary, so wipe that smirk off your face. We had a good talk, in fact.’

A log in the fire-place broke in two with a spluttering rain of sparks. Varric let one hand fall in his lap and with the fingers of the other drummed a silent rhythm on the tabletop. He tilted his head. He was curious to know how the elf had reacted to the news. ‘She told you then.’

‘Yes.’ The elf rubbed his brow; he didn’t seem surprised with Varric’s remark.

Normally the dwarf knew about everything that bothered her. And since he had been her only confessor here, in Skyhold, he was, apparently, fine with it.

‘Though I’d rather she had told me sooner, preferably back at home. But at least I’m glad she came into the open.’

The dwarf smiled broadly. ‘Good. I figure you’ll drag her back to Ferelden first thing and get to work.’

A silence fell, full of confusion and question marks and Varric got the nasty suspicion they were talking about completely different things. Nevertheless, he firmly ploughed on. ‘You know, because time is pressing since she’s not getting any younger and, er,’ How had Hawke put it again? Ah yes. ‘One day soon she may wake up realising it is too late,’ he more or less mangled her desperate words.

Fenris stared blank-faced at him. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Andraste’s tits!’ exclaimed Varric exasperated. ‘Normally you’re not this slow-witted! She wants your child, you dumbass! I thought that was what she had finally made clear!’

The elf sat heavily down in a chair. ‘ _That_ was not exactly what she made clear, no,’ he murmured. He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m afraid this only makes things more complicated.’

Varric stuck out his chin. He felt irritated and even het up because he absolutely didn’t know what the elf was hinting at. He hated any lack of information and thus he lashed out in a rather juvenile way. ‘Why? Getting cold feet? Having daddy-issues the other way around?’ He sounded almost aggressive but he immediately backpedalled when he saw the miserable look in the elf’s eyes.

‘That doesn’t explain why she disappeared,’ Fenris said.

‘I mentioned that one as well,’ Varric agreed, stubbornly clinging on to his own topic. ‘I mean that it’s very hard to get pregnant when the intended father is not around. Though, I must admit she had some kind of reasonable justification for that action; she was too afraid something would happen to you and –‘

‘I know that and that’s not what I meant,’ Fenris interrupted him impatiently. He abruptly stood up. ‘Since she’s not here and you haven’t seen her, I better go and find her.’ He turned on his heels.

Realisation hit and hit hard. ‘Elf, wait,’ Varric called urgently after him. ‘Are you trying to tell me Hawke has disappeared _again_?’

Fenris grimaced at him. ‘Talking about being slow-witted. But yes, I’m afraid so.’

Varric pushed his chair backwards and jumped up. ‘In that case you’ll need help or do you really think you can find her on your own in this maze of a castle? You would sooner get lost than accomplish that. You can update me about what Hawke actually made clear along the way.’

‘I’d welcome your assistance,’ said Fenris and without waiting for another reaction went for the door. ‘And let’s just hope she is indeed still somewhere in this fortress, got lost herself.’      He knew he only tried to convince himself but, honestly, he feared the worst.

While he followed the elf out of the room, Varric threw a reluctant glance at his promising work and then shrugged. “Always put art before sleep” might be one of his mottos, “put friends before anything else” was another, more important one.

-

_Some time earlier..._

Hawke woke with a jolt.

In the nightmare that had overwhelmed her, she had uttered a bloodcurdling scream but in the real world her throat was screwed shut; she had the feeling she was about to choke. She thought her head would explode. What had once started as a bothersome murmur like an irritating itch she couldn’t get rid of, had now become a biting menace. She lay still for long minutes, trying to win back her breath and to regulate her stammering heartbeat. A part of her, the optimistic part, had hoped it wouldn’t happen, or at least lessen, with Fenris close by but, of course, she should have known better. It had started, and gone worse for that matter, with him around. Partly it was even due to him. Not that he was to blame, but Corypheus had used him, or better her love for him, to kindle and worsen her fears. So why would it now suddenly stop? She listened to her lover’s steady and light breathing but it didn’t calm her down.

This had been the worst confrontation thus far.

The total destruction of Thedas was inevitable; it had already started. The wave of devastation had set into motion and was unstoppable as an all-devouring tsunami of fire and desperation. The auxiliary troops that had been on their way to Adamant lay slain in the sand, their lives broken, their siege equipment destroyed. Empress Celine had been assassinated, chaos had broken out in Orlais, blood was already flowing in rivers. The Inquisition had acted too late. Too slow, too late. But perhaps there still was something they could salvage. Perhaps they could avert total disaster.

With a shuddering sigh Hawke slowly sat up, careful not to wake Fenris. There was no need to make him upset. Not yet, at any rate. He would burst into an avalanche of anxiety, or would go beyond himself trying to set her mind at ease, which possibly would be worse. She had to warn someone, though. Leliana probably, or perhaps Cullen. Or the Inquisitor, that would be best. She had come to know the woman as someone who kept calm in difficult and perilous circumstances and didn’t hesitate to take decisions.

But first she was in dire need of fresh air. She inched out of the bed, moving the mattress as little as she could. Fenris stirred; he mumbled something she didn’t understand and with a contented sounding sigh rolled on his other side. Despite everything Hawke couldn’t help smiling tenderly. It still struck her he had learned to take his sleep as a bliss, instead of a reliability. So many years he had been afraid that Danarius would pounce upon him in the hours he had referred to as “his weakest time”. She wouldn’t think about disturbing his recently found peace. Not because of an extremely upsetting nightmare. Or a “Corypheus Calling”, as she silently had named the unsavoury encounters.

 As silent as possible she dressed and sneaked out of the room. The door closed with a soft click behind her.

Outside she leant against the parapet and deeply inhaled the cold night air. The stars twinkled as unperturbed in the sky as they had always done and Hawke began to wonder whether what Corypheus had told and shown her was the truth. Or if he was simply trying to drive her completely insane. If so, he was doing a terrific job. But what had he to gain by that? She was just one woman and not a specifically great threat for his evil plans. Or did he send those horrifying visions out of revenge? But revenge for what? Freeing him?

‘It would certainly be fitting for such a monster to show his gratitude in this way,’ she scoffed half loud.

It could be about her father. That thought chilled her. The never ending saga of his blood. She shuddered. The only time he had used, had been _forced_ to use blood magic. The only reason he had done it was to rescue his wife, his unborn child – her!-  when he found himself in the clutches of the Grey Wardens. Was it her blood he was still after? She had refused to think about it up till now. It was too horrifying. And not only for her. She could imagine Carver’s reaction. Thank the Maker he was safely stowed aboard Isabela’s ship.

‘I need a drink,’ she then concluded morosely.

The tavern would be closed at this hour of night but there was always one person who’d have a bottle of decent alcohol lying about. He wouldn’t mind if she woke him up. And perhaps it was a good idea anyhow to have a serious talk with her favourite dwarf. Feeling slightly better she descended the stairs to the courtyard.

Halfway the deserted space she suddenly noticed a heavily cloaked and hooded figure standing before the large flight of steps that led to the Main Hall. At the very moment the person turned to her and removed the hood, Hawke took a staggering step back. She stared flabbergasted and with a nasty premonition in a well-known face. ‘You!’ she gasped. ‘What are _you_ doing here?!’

‘You will have to conquer you fears; you will _all_ have to conquer your fears, otherwise there can be no victory. And you will be their teacher.’

‘What do you –‘ She came no further. There was a flash of bright blinding light and after that darkness.

-

This felt wrong, the whole environment felt wrong, the very _air_ felt wrong; she didn’t have to open her eyes to sense that. And to make things worse, something slithered around her. It wasn’t evil, she could tell that, but nonetheless she wasn’t happy with it because she knew where it belonged.

‘You will have to take my place,’ a soft voice sounded, ‘I have grown too weak.’

Only now Hawke opened her eyes and her bad assumption got cruelly confirmed. It was pointless to start asking questions like “why” and “how” or even “what is the fucking meaning of this”, while she couldn’t expect any answers. She wanted to scream but it would be to no avail. No-one would hear her, at least no-one who could come to her rescue. She was trapped and totally on her own.

-

Fenris hadn’t taken half a hasty step outside Varric’s apartment when he collided with someone else. As crashes went, this was quite an impressive one, since he was at full speed and caught the other person completely unawares. They both tumbled on the floor and the elf reacted on instinct like he would when being attacked. And as always he reacted fast as a snake and with deadly accuracy. Thus, after a few blurry moments, he ended on top, holding the other person’s wrists above their head in a solid grip with one hand while, his free hand hovered over their chest. His markings were bright ablaze.

‘Wow! Elf!’ shouted Varric panicky somewhere behind his back. ‘Calm down! He may be Tevene but he’s no Danarius!’

Dorian, after his first shock, stared amused at the flustered face floating somewhere above his. ‘Before we move on to the ripping-hearts-out part,’ he babbled amicably, ‘I should point out that: yes, I am a mage and, guilty as charged, from Tevinter. But I am not, I repeat and repeat with emphasis, _not_ a Magister.’ He smiled charmingly. ‘I hope that will soften the other two allegations.’

At first Fenris stared incredulously back but then he had to laugh, though it sounded somewhat reluctant and strained. He scrambled back on his feet and helped Dorian to stand. ‘That doesn’t mean you don’t have the arrogant attitude of one,’ he said.

With a courteous movement Dorian slightly bowed his head. ‘And again I plead guilty. I’m afraid it can’t be helped, though. Something to do with straight,’ (he winced nearly imperceptible), ‘upbringing and eons of breeding. Hard to shake off. Sorry about that.’ There shone a wicked but at the same time pleasant twinkle in his eyes. ‘Fenris, I assume..? We met once but I won’t take it against you if you don’t remember that occasion.’

The elf smiled crookedly. ‘I told _him_ once,’ (he hinted with his head at Varric), ‘he was a very odd dwarf. I tell you right now you are an even queerer mage. And that coming from someone more or less married to one, or better and more precise to Marian Hawke, that means you are really strange, believe me.’

‘I have met your woman,’ Dorian smiled back, ‘we travelled together. I believe you.’

He remembered all too well the scolding she had given him at that occasion. It made him, right now, look in a different way at the slave he had encountered, a lifetime away. He had to admit he was still in awe. The, back then nameless juvenile, hadn’t lost anything of his gorgeousness, but he had added the perilous flavour of freedom. He had become dangerously attractive. He remembered again Hawke’s equal dangerous remark of leaving her man alone. Inwardly he shook himself. He had changed, yes. He, for example, didn’t saw this marvellous elf as an ex-slave, but as a man who had freed himself. At dear costs. Not only Marian Hawke, but also the Inquisitor had reminded him that slavery was below human standards. By now he believed them. He just was not certain the elf before him believed him too. Believed his shifted convictions. He stared at him, all the while keeping up his charming smile. And thinking that, for an ex-slave once the property of Danarius, this Fenris reacted extremely calm and collected. Marians Hawke’s doing? 

Fenris squinted. ‘I’ve heard all about it,’ he said. Marian’s remark about both she and this mage adoring his tight ass sprang to mind. At this moment, facing the very person she had referred to, he didn’t know whether he should go on considering that rather funny or getting angry about it. But there was something about this Dorian he couldn’t figure out. And then he realised this was the first Tevinter mage he didn’t want to rip apart on the spot. It was quite a revelation, even with the knowledge he was a member of House Pavus, the very House Danarius had feared and despised.

‘Really?’ Dorian reacted guardedly. ‘Even about..?’

‘Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand, Messeres,’ Varric interrupted determinedly, before something could be said by either men that would make the other one go off. ‘You don’t know yet, Sparkles, but Hawke has disappeared. Like whisked away from the bed she shared with her elf. Vanished in thin air and all that if you will. We were about to go on a search mission, and since we’ve blundered into each other anyhow, maybe you want to join us? What were you doing up and about at this hour anyway? I thought whole Skyhold were fast asleep.’

Dorian shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I think sleep is overrated. You can do so many exciting things instead of sleeping.’ He grinned smugly. ‘Like you do, I suppose; you weren’t sleeping either.’

‘No, I was writing a masterpiece,’ Varric grumbled glumly, ‘before I got interrupted.’ He looked at Fenris who pressed his lips.

‘Perhaps I should give some more information before we get lost in a wild-goose chase,’ the elf said with a sigh. He suddenly felt very tired. He bit his lip and looked askance and a bit guilty at Varric. ‘It’s about what Marian really made clear. I reckon it will be vital, or at least useful.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never could imagine Fenris, after all the years he has spent in Hawke´s proximity, pouncing upon Dorian as a first rate mindless ape. He must have learned. He must have grown, gone beyond the primal urging of killing anything remotely connected to Tevinter. That would not be my eloquent and collected and erudite Fenris.
> 
> And, for that matter, I think it wouldn´t suit Dorian at all to go into a big fight with that former slave. Let alone the one that had caught his eye in one than more way.  
> Forgive if I´m wrong.
> 
> Whatever your stance in the matter, thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris will get extremely het up and Cullen makes an effort at calming him down. With the opposite effect, I fear.   
> And, how unexpectedly, Cassandra saves the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will meet a Cole who is acting somewhat out of character. But there are good reasons for it. By the way, I suppose many of you consider him annoying, I know I did at the beginning. (So perhaps it’s just me.) But by now I think he’s a wonderful character and find myself liking, even loving, him very much. He’s such a sweety!

Wintersend 9

-

Slowly Evelyn came drifting to the surface of reality. She tried to fight off the moment she would wake, although, even in her half-dream, she knew it was a lost battle. Every second now life would be banging on the door of, well, everyday life. To postpone that irritating moment she snuggled close to Cullen, as close as was physically possible. More close and she would dissolve into him. She let her fingers softly trail down his naked chest and back up and revelled in the ecstatic feeling the simple touch brought about. To be honest, she had been afraid he would want to take some distance after their first night together. Not because of the experience itself, which had been more than satisfying. No, satisfying was not the right term. In fact, it was very poorly put. It had been exhilarating, for the both of them. A lazy smile unfolded around her lips at the wonderful memory. Such passion, such surrender, and at the same time so much love and tenderness ... dedication ... She groaned aroused at the memory. It had been perfect.

But the morning after that wonderful night rumours had been flying around like sharp missiles. It had gone on all day; the piercing and estimating looks of the nobles – save Vivienne, strangely enough; she had given them a faraway smile that had almost looked like a thumbs up – the snickering of the staff, the hardly veiled amusement of the soldiers, the giggled remarks about him being the stallion that had conquered the prize mare...

Yes, she had found it amusing but she had been afraid it would deter him, frighten him, let him shy away. The moment he, in a flash, reacted to all the silly talks, it dawned on her, however, she shouldn’t have bothered. In the spur of the moment and seemingly without thinking, and in the middle of the courtyard of all places, he had snaked an arm around her waist, drawn her into his arms and kissed her with fire, for everyone to see. At first there had been stunned silence and then the silence had exploded in whistles and catcalls and still he kept on kissing her. It had been one of the finest moments of her life. He had dared to defy them all and most of all to defy himself. She had especially savoured the moment he had looked up and challenged all the spectators with a bright smirk.

When she had afterwards, carefully avoiding any twinkle in her eyes, informed why he had done it, he had looked at her with that adorable boyish smile and explained, ‘They would have gone on speculating anyway. Forever, probably. Better to give them the show they craved for. You know, to shut them up.’ And then, as expected, his look shifted in a heartbeat to near panic. ‘I didn’t mean to tarnish the moment, or what we shared ... or share ... oh Maker... I didn’t want to use you for my ...  please believe me ...’ He stared at her, his eyes wide.

‘Cullen!’ She tried to silence him and at the same time made a desperate effort to stifle an upcoming giggle.

‘No, hear me out.’ His look was very serious, if not pained. ‘It was not my intent to impress my men by taking advantage of –’ He abruptly stopped talking when he saw her bright smile and amused raised brows. He didn’t know what to make of that.

‘No? Can you really vow for that?’ If possible her smile became even more amused.

He deflated and gave in and grinned awkwardly. ‘No I can’t,’ he confessed, and the moment after defended his cause with rekindled flair. ‘But please believe me when I say I don’t see you as some kind of prize mare – for Andraste’s sake! The expression alone!‘ For a moment she thought he would explode but he took a breath and calmed down. He went on, ‘But that doesn’t mean I’m not proud to be able to call you mine, that is, if you agree, if it doesn’t bother you -'  He had stopped hesitantly, staring somewhat bewildered at her near impish expression.

And then Evelyn had burst into that fit of laughter she had been trying to withhold. ‘No, of course it doesn’t! You made a bold statement, I thought it was daring what you did,’ she told him and she meant it whole-heartedly. ‘And brilliant!’ she added. ‘I hope you saw their faces! Priceless! I just thought it wasn’t like you to do something like that. I thought you would sooner hide in your office than face them.’ She cupped his face with tender hands and she kissed him. ‘I love you,’ she murmured in a low warm voice.

He rubbed his nose against hers and gave her  a sweltering half-grin back. ‘And I love you.’ He took her in a near suffocating embrace. ‘And now the whole of Skyhold know it.’ He had caressed her cheek. ‘I have to confess it feels ... I feel liberated. I mean, kissing you in front of everyone.’ He gave her a shy smile. ‘You have changed me. You make me do things I never even thought of doing before I met you.’ He had rested his forehead against hers. 

She had looked deep into his eyes. ‘I am a wicked, wicked woman,’ she had said with that low resonating voice she knew by now drove him mad, ‘and I will lead you down paths you never knew existed before.’

He had just raised his brow and she had burst into laughter once again. ‘And I ever so often love to exaggerate.’ Not a moment after she had tilted her head and had said, ‘But then again, my love, how much exactly do I know about your paths? Too little, I fear. So you can tell me about those along the tracks we are going to walk together.’

As so many times before, she had swept him off his feet. And again had stunned him. He, an ex-Templar in love with a mage. What strange bends the road of life could take! As if she had read his thoughts, she had taken his hand into his hers. With a hesitant smile she had said, ‘What I meant was: you never put me on the spot. In fact, you turned me into a real woman when you kissed me in that courtyard. I didn’t have to be an icon, a hero, a saviour. Have you any idea how tiresome and energy-absorbing that whole Inquisitor thing can be? And just, then and there, I could simply be a girl in love. And you made it real. Thank you for that.’

He had pulled her close again and without any words had just caressed her. Yes, he had some inkling of how tiresome it could be.

-

And thus, without any hesitation, he had followed her to her bedroom that same evening and shared another wonderful night with her. A night that now came to an end. And definitely came to an end when life indeed banged on the door. Literally. ‘Lady Inquisitor?’

Evelyn groaned glumly. ‘Not this soon.’

Next to her Cullen shifted. ‘There’s someone at the door,’ he mumbled drowsily.

There came another knock, more probing this time. ‘Inquisitor?’ The voice had attained some force.

The asked for Inquisitor sighed annoyed. ‘So why don’t you open it?’

With some difficulty Cullen heaved his head that felt as heavy as a lump of lead in his half-sleep. He looked blearily at her. ‘Aren’t you the Inquisitor?’ He tried a charming, though still very sleepy smile to parry her displeased expression. It didn’t help. Evelyn looked icily back. He knew by now she was not a morning person, to put it mildly, and had wondered more than once how she had coped with the stern Circle routine. Or, perhaps better, how the others had coped with her. Undoubtedly it was way wiser to just give in. At least to save his hide. He contemplated his options and came to the conclusion there was only one.  ‘Right. So it’s up to me.’

Evelyn dropped her head back on the pillow. ‘You got it, mister,’ she murmured and closed her eyes with a contented grunt, evidently planning on extending her night rest some more.

Cullen sagged, or better didn’t sag but instead heaved himself up to a sitting position. ‘Don’t worry, I have this one,’ he grumbled.

With heroic effort he dragged himself out of the bed and stumbled to the door. If he could pull himself through the mind-numbing Chant of Transfiguration, he could endure this simple challenge. Damn it. Somewhat too late, i.e. at the moment he opened said door, he realised he was stark naked. It didn’t help that the person on the other side of the door almost hit his manly parts head-on with his impressive nose and the second person standing next to the short first one gave him a bright toothy grin, which was attended by such a smouldering look that Cullen automatically took two steps back.

‘Evelyn!’ he cried out, alarmed; his voice caught as if his virtue got violated. He was at once wide awake. He spun on his heels and dived back into the bed. ‘Please, take this over,’ he pleaded, his words smothered in the pillow he had grabbed to hide his face in. ‘I will do anything for you, everything, but not this.’

‘O dear, I think we aroused him,’ Dorian commented with such a straight face it should be fined. Needless to say he was overly pleased with the unexpected treat. ‘Nice, er, bottom by the way,’ he added joyfully, causing Cullen to try the trick of invisibility on the spot.

‘Shut up,’ Varric reacted with a venomous smile that was a fine on itself. He nudged him with his elbow in the lower ribs while holding a steady eye on Evelyn who, clad in a robe she had hastily wrapped around her body, came striding towards them as the personification of cold and determined nemesis.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ she as good as growled with clipped words and flaming eyes. It had scared the shit out of most of the Circle Templars, and the dwarf and the Tevinter mage involuntary felt a shiver go down their spine. With force Varric threw off the creepy feeling; he straightened his shoulders and opened his mouth.

At the very moment Fenris stepped forward. ‘I apologise,’ he said unperturbed. He was, after all, familiar with Hawke’s notorious morning moods, and was quite certain _she_ would have thrown a couple of fireballs in their direction by now. He considered the momentary lack of angry magical outbursts only an advantage.

But before he could go any further, Evelyn lifted her hand. She shot him a wan smile. ‘Fenris, I presume? I’ve heard of your arrival.’ Another feeble smile followed the first one. ‘So I should be the one to apologise,’ she said, ‘since I should have taken the time to greet you. But I was –‘

‘Otherwise engaged?’ Varric suggested innocently. She gave such a deadly glare in return, it would have shrunk lesser men. The dwarf, however, continued unruffled, ‘But we didn’t come to disturb your early morning rituals to exchange pleasantries.’ He paused for a few heartbeats for the effect. ‘We have a situation. A serious one.’

-

Not half an hour later they were all gathered in the War Room; even Dorian had tagged along, although under normal circumstances he gave the widest berth possible to the place. He didn’t like the severe responsibility that wafted from the room, he had explained on several occasions; he had more than a handful worries to carry with him and loads of the stuff to keep him occupied with the problems of his origin. He needn’t more to make his life complicated. But this time he put forward he had been at the start of it all and wanted to see where the next stage led.

Varric, on the other hand, suspected highly the mage simply wandered blindly and thoughtlessly, and driven by all kinds of instincts the lower brain broadcasted, after Cullen because he was attracted like a magnet to the Commander’s behind, now he had seen what that looked like in the flesh, so to say. And after Dorian previously had looked Fenris up and down as if he fervently tried to imagine what the elf looked like without his impressive armour, Varric wondered who he would favour in the end: It was purely a hypothetical speculation, of course, since both men already had found the – very feminine –  loves of their lives. Nevertheless, it would be fun to watch the Tevinter mage in times to come.

The Inquisitor, on her turn, tried to get a foothold to reality by imbibing gallons of strong black coffee, with a certain degree of success. She made an effort to rub away the frowns that creased her forehead after Varric was done with his report.

‘So, summarising,’ she said with a voice still bearing traces of sleep, ‘Marian Hawke was hearing the voice of Corypheus in her head, telling her she was a bad, bad girl and proclaiming all sorts of nasty things and now she has disappeared.’

Varric cringed. ‘Yes. Not very eloquently put but close enough, I suppose. You skipped, however, the part of the gone missing horse and the traces we, well, the Spymaster´s scouts, found over the mountain pass, seemingly leading to the Western Approach.’

Evelyn waved her hand impatiently. ‘Those tracks could lead anywhere! There´s no reason at all to assume she´s galloping straight to Adamant!’

‘Except for the fact Corypheus is apparently planning his next move over there,’ said Fenris, who was pacing the room as strained as a caged lion. ‘And taking into consideration Marian is dragged to the place like he is playing with her as if she were a puppet on a string, I think she is actually on her way to Adamant.’

‘But why she? That doesn’t make any sense,’ Leliana put forward. ‘I could understand if Corypheus would want to influence the Inquisitor’s mind, but what does he have to gain by driving the Champion insane?’

Contemplatively Varric drummed the top of the large table, causing some strategically placed figurines to tumble over. Cassandra raised an eyebrow but no-one else paid it any attention, too absorbed in the observation of the dwarf’s musing expression as they were. ‘Well,’ he finally said, ‘the bastard has a – special connection with the Hawkes. I mean, pops was the one who bound him to the Warden prison, on penalty of death, or better the death of his pregnant wife, I might add, and then the daughter came along.’ He groaned at the memory. ‘He _forced_ the daughter to come along, using dwarfs of all races. Ugh.’ He groaned some more and deeper this time. ‘And, despite the crystal-clear evidence he was as dead as a too impatient and too passionate squashed toad in the mating season, she actually freed him. Or so it now seems. I swear we left him stabbed, shot and singed to death on that blasted prison floor. No way could he draw a single breath ever again.’ He turned to the elf who was still walking back and forth. ‘You were there, you saw what happened!’

Fenris stopped at a window and looked at the beautiful with snow powdered mountains that surrounded the castle. ‘It is no use trying to rectify our actions, Varric,’ he said softly. ‘Only we know we were convinced that we took the right decision.’ He smiled sadly. ‘So many times I tried to tell Marian it was not her fault.’ He rested his elbows on the windowsill and sighed slightly. ‘Yes, she was utterly upset to find –’

He bowed his head and then, with a sudden, near aggressive movement, turned to his captivated audience. ‘She tried to do the right thing; she was _convinced_ she did the right thing by killing Corypheus. When she found out her father had been forced to use blood magic to bind the monster, it almost undid her. And she wanted to rectify his deed by doing what he had been unable or forbidden to do by the Grey Wardens. I think in a way she wanted to clear his name and reputation, to revenge him. Even though Malcolm Hawke had been abducted and pushed against his will to renew the seals with blood magic.’ He snorted derisively. ‘Even after she found out that if he had refused, the Wardens would have killed his wife and in that gruesome scenario she wouldn’t have been born, she still was extremely upset with his deeds. I believe that she, at that moment, had preferred –’

Again he abruptly halted. It was difficult to talk about this subject, even on his behalf. Marian had always adored her father. It had been more than a severe blow to find out her father had used blood magic, whether he had been forced to, for whatever reasons, or not. He had spent ages trying to make her see but, he knew painfully well, had never fully succeeded. ‘Let alone she had to use it herself to awake Corypheus. Because that was the only way we could slay him.’ And that had, if possible, even troubled her more.

He continued in a more mellow tone, ‘I never knew Malcolm Hawke, but in the way his teachings, his actions, his words, still resonate in his daughter, I held the man in high esteem. And I still do. And for anybody who knows my history with mages,’ his eyes fluttered for a short, near immeasurable moment to Dorian who had the decency to just nod his head and shoot him an understanding look, ‘the trust and confidence I put in my woman _and_ her father goes far and beyond my limits.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘Let alone I would defend him in his decision to use blood magic to save his family.’ He hung his head and then looked up and his blazing gaze almost blew Leliana and especially Cassandra away. ‘What would have been your choice? Would you have simply let kill your loved-ones out of misplaced righteousness like some kind of arrogant so called brother of the Faith I once knew, or would you have followed your own conscience?’

Both women stared mesmerized at him.

Fenris let his harsh words follow with even more harsh ones. ‘Or have you never loved someone in the first place? In that case my plead will fall on deaf ears anyway.’  He turned back to the window.

Cullen cleared his throat and carefully said, ‘Please, Fenris, know we, I at least, will never condemn Hawke for what she has done in that Warden prison.’ Involuntarily his thoughts swivelled to the memories her arrival had stirred up and he shook his head. Absentmindedly he added, ‘To be honest, I thought if there _would_ be a dispute, it would handle about her role in ...' His face crunched, if only at the horrible recollections. ‘In that night, that night –‘

Fenris turned fast as a viper. ‘That night she decided to defend the mages against Meredith’s insanity and the whole of Kirkwall fell apart,’ he hissed. ‘Do you really have to bring that up at this time?! Would you rather that your deranged Knight Commander would have had her way to go on with her plan of murdering all the mages in the Circle who had nothing to do with that one action of one completely gone mad mage?’ His markings blew ablaze and everyone took a step back, hypnotized staring at his display of pure ferocity. ‘Ah yes, of course you will take that action as evidence that Marian can’t be trusted, that she must be clapped in irons and dragged about as an example, so everyone can cheer and applaud she has been taken captive. The foul instigator of the uprising of the Circle in Kirkwall, the true kindler of all the misery in Thedas! Will that let you sleep at night?!’ His voice had taken a deep rumbling menacing tone.

Evelyn took a step forward but Cullen beat her by grasping her wrist and checking her swift move. He was afraid she would lash out to defend him and there was no need. He had been there, he knew what had happened. He was a witness, she wasn’t. This was his field of war, his area of expertise. He knew what Fenris spoke about. He had lived through that awful night and survived it, to his great surprise. And had made the choice to give them a safe passage in the grave end. She backed down; to his surprise, to be honest. In the meantime he held Fenris’s furious look.

‘No,’ he said calmly, ‘the Maker only knows how many sleepless nights followed but I never regretted taking that step back to let you walk away free.’ His smile was morose to say the least of it. Perhaps brittle would do it more justice. ‘Because, just as you, I knew Meredith had lost her mind and nothing good could come from that. As she blatantly proved.’

Fenris eyed him and his look was nothing but cynical. ‘So good you came to that conclusion right in time,’ he scoffed.

Varric let out a warning grumble. ‘Now, elf,’ he sounded all but reasonable, ’we all know the Commander gave us the chance to survive the idiotic situation. You don’t have to be grateful about it but, please, stop the unfounded accusations.' He took a deep sigh. ‘If Hawke were here, she would have dealt you a ferocious and well earned whack around the ears. The both of you. Cullen for carelessly raising the subject and you for reacting so badly to it.’ He observed the slightly raised brows of the elf. ‘As a matter of speaking, of course.’

As on cue Cassandra stepped forward. ‘If I may,’ she said.

‘Ah yes,’ Varric reacted, dramatically throwing his arms in the air, ‘and at last the heroine makes her move and takes the scene.’ He bowed reverently. ‘The stage is all yours, milady.’ And with that he withdrew.

The former Seeker gave the dwarf an exasperated look. She eyed around. She wasn’t used to speak in public and, frankly, it gave her the creeps, but what she had to make clear was too important to let her fear take over. She stood straight. ‘I think,’ she put her hands on the table and absentmindedly straightened the little figurines Varric had toppled over, ‘I think Corypheus is aiming at chaos.’

Now she had all undivided attention and it scared her to death. Despite that she soldiered on. She clenched her jaw and stated, ‘We can discuss forever whether the Champion’s choice to back the mages was the right one or that she’d have better support the Templars, it doesn’t matter. It could have been the other way around and it would have led to the same outcome. Colour me an idiot, but I think the one and only reason Corypheus picked the Champion, picked Marian Hawke to address, is the reason he is convinced she is the only person in the world capable to create enough chaos to serve his purpose. It doesn’t matter she used blood magic to free him. He doesn’t give a damn _she freed him_! It may only gave him the idea she’s more susceptible to his vile influence.

‘The only thing that _does_ matter, is he believes she will create chaos and chaos is what he is aiming at. Mages, Templars, the whole unsavoury war between them, that is chaos and he thrives on it. And he uses her as the example, the instigator. He needs her because he is certain she is the one who ripped Kirkwall apart and, if he can drive her insane enough, she will be the one who will bring chaos enough to rip apart the whole of Thedas. And, when chaos has drowned the world, he will be the one who washes up to take the reins.’

She looked around at the silent faces and pressed on.  ‘Don’t you see?! That’s the reason why he chose her and not the Inquisitor. Only she, in his eyes, is the chosen one. So she is the one to hear his voice. Because she is already riddled with guilt and thus sensitive to his Call. And already stood at the source of all destruction.’

Long silence met her words.

Finally Varric flared up. ‘So you still blame her!’

Fenris moved and grasped his shoulder. He looked across the dwarf’s head at the Seeker. ‘No, Varric, she doesn’t. She only tries to explain and I think she has a point.’

 Varric huffed, ‘I hope you’re right.’

Cassandra eyed him with fondness which brought him completely off balance. If the Seeker showed anything but angry contempt, the whole world would crash down and come to an abrupt end anyway. Then they wouldn’t need Corypheus to do the job. He let the Inquisitor take his arm and let him gently lead out of the room. ‘What about a strong drink before we attack Adamant Fortress?’ he heard her say. He just managed to voice his approval. Weakly.

-

‘But he loves her,’ Cole objected.

Solas smiled faintly. ‘Yes,’ he mused, ‘and never, or rarely, have I noticed or felt in this world someone carry so much love for some other living being.’

‘And yet you allowed them to be separated,’ Cole all but shrieked, ‘and hurt each other. I don’t understand.’

Outwardly composed Solas turned his attention to the mural painting he was working on at the moment. ‘Perhaps they should be taught a lesson of how to appreciate each other and not to take love for granted,’ he murmured absentmindedly. ‘Humans, dwarves and, to be honest, elves as well, so easily take love for granted. Sadly.’

He completely missed the sudden furious expression of his protégé. ‘And have _you_ loved, really loved?’ Cole uncharacteristically burst out. ‘Do _you_ know what it means? Would you, if you really knew what love is all about, have sent her into the Fade? Without him?’ He wouldn’t have bothered but for the fact he had really been touched, deeply touched, by the feelings the already marred elf harboured for the woman they called the Campion. Who, for that matter, had been marred herself. As a spirit of compassion all that pain was hard to bear.

Solas turned sharply, as been bitten by a poisonous snake, and lashed out with his brush. A few drops of paint flew about and attached on Cole’s pale skin. ‘Never,’ he bit, ‘never speak to me about love again,’

‘You are really scared,’ Cole concluded, not taking any notice of Solas’s outburst whatsoever.

And Solas should have known that taking a spirit under his wings would cause this kind of collateral damage. Cole might seem an innocent kid, as Varric put it, but he was above all a nuisance. And a dangerous one at that. He had recognized that in advance but his affections with spirits had clouded his judgement. He should have realised this spirit would look right through him. They had met before, after all. And what had he been thinking! A spirit of compassion! It could ruin all his schemes. He should have picked another entity.

He tried to compose himself but only succeeded that far. ‘What do you want from me,’ he snarled.

‘That you put things right,’ Cole simply said. ‘Guide her trough the Fade, bring them back together, repair what you have demolished. Or have helped to demolish.’ He tilted his head and Solas hated him for doing so. It reminded him too strongly of the one love in his existence. She had been the reason he had invoked Cole and defended him _._ Then again, _she_ had never put in mind all his painful memories, his lost feelings. His deeds. The coldness of loneliness. His grand failure _. That blasted orb ..._ It was typical for Cole to do so, to investigate, to try to turn his mind inside out. But he had voted for him and, to his surprise, the Inquisitor had backed him. Right now he regretted that.

‘I am not your slave,’ Cole at the very minute stated, and it left Solas near speechless.

‘How in all the world,’ he started stammering, completely knocked off his feet. He never should have allowed the dwarf to mingle in his affairs. He never should have allowed him to enter his room while he was trying to put Cole under his influence by the use of the amulet the Inquisitor had so kindly provided. To protect himself from the spirit’s influence.

Said spirit, who wasn’t a real spirit any longer, smiled. The residue from his former being was still strong enough to prevent he’d become totally human. ‘I read the Tevinter elf’s feelings and memories,' he stated with an angelic smile Solas very much wanted to wipe off his face, ‘and I found out his former master wanted to control him in the way you want to control me. I know he is still plagued by memories and still very scared. And I think you are too.’ He added, ‘I think the only reason you enter the Fade is to try finding and winning back your control over the place, but you know you aren’t strong enough and you need her... the lady with the horns.’ He continued, ‘That is why you tolerate her... and the reason you called for me.’ He smiled, though this time the smile had a kind of, how to put it, fang- quality to it.

His eyes rolled back in his head and his voice altered. ‘You know, Dread Wolf, what goes around comes around. You can call me, try to change me, even try to kill me, but you never know how your little plays turn out.’

Solas, in horror, put his hands to his mouth. He recognized that voice. The voice of the only one he hadn’t been able to catch in the trap he so meticulously had prepared. (Perhaps hadn’t _want_ to trap. Because he respected her so much. And, yes, dreaded.) An exploit that had left him exhausted for a too long time. An exploit that had driven him to do something extremely dangerous. An exploit with consequences that were about to bite him in the back. He should have thought it over more thoroughly, before he acted in panic and on impulse.

And now he found out her meddling had gone even further that he had already feared.

Cole, in the meantime, had rolled up in a ball, seemingly as exhausted as he had felt after his awakening. Which wasn’t so surprising, if she indeed had used his already distressed mind to bring the message home.

‘Please go and save her,’ the spirit murmured.

Solas dropped his brush, turned and walked out of the rotunda. Right now he needed the fresh springtime air of the mountains.

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: I know the plan of the Inquisitor’s bedroom is different from the one I pictured, that is, you have to storm down a flight of stairs (or two, I believe) to meet the people banging at the door; I simplified it because it better suited the story; sorry for that.
> 
> A/N 2: I also know that Cole only changed after the battle at Adamant fortress and all that ensued but, again, it better suited the story. Ehm, sorry once more..? Hope you forgive me.
> 
> A/N 3: I think the Legacy story, on which the whole of DAI is based upon for crying out loud, is highly neglected in the Inquisition. With all the efforts they put into the game, they let Hawke show up alone in Skyhold with at best a meagre and totally implausible excuse why her lover isn’t with her, but also they totally fail to emphasize her, and her father’s, role in the drama. They simply settle with a faint and skimpy explanation of her following some dim lead about red lyrium. I thought it cheap and stupid. But that’s my opinion.
> 
> Besides all that, thanks so much for reading! And special thanks to you who left kudos and comments!


	10. Chapter 10

Wintersend 10

-

Cole was cringing on his cot in the small by him so beloved space above the tavern. He felt at home here, this was his safe spot. But at this very moment the safe spot didn’t feel that safe. He was riddled with feelings of guilt. He had failed her; he had left that already damaged woman to face that dangerous environment on her own. He hadn’t been able to persuade Solas to help her. Violently he turned on his other side. He never should have called him the Dread Wolf; it had been a huge mistake. He had sensed the very moment the name had left his mouth the elf had gone rigid. He still didn’t understand why he had done that; for some reason his transition from spirit to human being – well, more or less human being, as human as it could get he figured – had left him with awkward twitches. He still was able to read, or rather sense, minds and thoughts and feelings but it had become harder to do something about the pain that surrounded him since he couldn’t move along people like an invisible entity anymore.

He still was uncertain about what had happened in the rotunda. It had seemed as if someone else temporarily had taken over his head, his thoughts and even his voice. But how could that be possible? He knew he had called Solas the Dread Wolf although that never had been his intent; the words more or less got dragged out of his mouth. It was all very vague. Perhaps his mind was more fuddled than he had presumed.

Yes, he felt liberated now he had lost his own trepidation and had let go of his anger and anguish – the dwarf Varric had been right about that – but at the same time he mourned the loss of the ability to do something about all that pain he encountered every moment of his existence. The Inquisitor, and he couldn’t help smiling at the image of her, had tried her best to guide him through this new and frightening path. She had even gone as far as to take him to Val Royeaux to show him there were good times to treasure and he didn’t have to fuss over everybody’s fate anymore. She had not alone shown interest but real concern in his well-being. He, at least, could still feel that and he loved her for it. He, as a Spirit of Compassion as he still saw himself, admired her for the very compassion she showed for the people around her. Regardless. As he had done and still tried to do. He wished he could tell her about Solas but knew that was a no go.

He had known Solas for what or who he was before they both adapted their human form. He remembered he had met him in the Fade, lost and confused. He remembered the Orb. He remembered the desolation that had radiated from the Dread Wolf at that time. He had tried to console him but the elven god had turned him away, dismissing him for the simple spirit he had been at that time. They both had been more than surprised to meet again in the human world. They had made a pledge to never reveal their identity. Although, come to think about that, his own identity had been smeared along the surface of the living world within no time, while the Dread Wolf still lingered in the shadows, hiding himself as he had always done. He had made a mistake, a grievous one, and he tried his very best to make it right.

This much Cole understood. And he could sympathise with it. It was a pity, really, that Solas saw him as some kind of experiment, as how a spirit hurled out of the Fade would behave in what the humans called the real world. He tossed again. This was not what bothered him the most at the moment.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman people called the Champion, about how lost she felt, how terrified. How fragile she looked, how troubled. He knew Corypheus was after her, although he didn’t exactly know why. He just assumed this also had something to do with the Orb. Though the woman had no knowledge of that artefact. Not even in the faint way the Inquisitor had been drenched with it, and also without any knowledge about what it was and how it worked, and just wielded the green spot on her hand to close rifts. She could do that without being killed. It mystified him.

He turned on his back and rubbed his eyes. No. It had something to do with blood. Her blood. Cole frowned. Her Father’s blood. He frowned deeper. They had some relation, Corypheus and she. In some way he was scared of her. Afraid she held some power over him. A power she didn’t even know existed, a power she could wield but didn’t know was there. A power that went beyond the green spot. Older. More terrifying. He had heard his voice haunting her, he had heard the words he had thrown at her to make her feel small and vulnerable. To wound her. He wanted to break her – ah – spirit and till some level he had succeeded. But he had not driven her mad. Not completely. Not yet.

Again Cole turned on his other side. And then suddenly sat up. He held his breath and screwed his eyes shut. And then made a decision. He could not return to the Fade as the spirit he had been, not as such. But he remembered what he had once been and he could at least make an appearance.

He could help her.

He _would_ help her.

Helping had always been his goal. That had not changed.

-

Cullen was rummaging through the papers on his desk. Everything was ready for the march on Adamant Fortress but he wanted to make sure he hadn’t overlooked even the smallest detail. He looked up when a shy knock sounded on the doorpost and saw Fenris standing in the opening. His already opened mouth, ready to yell he was not to be disturbed, snapped shut. The elf looked exhausted, if not despondent, and completely spent. It was hard to miss the dark shadows under his eyes. The little smile he gave him couldn’t cover his inner pain, how much he undoubtedly tried to. Cullen realised he must be eaten up by worries and fears over Marian Hawke and, frankly, he admired him for his composure. At the same time it pained him to see him like this. Wasted. Consumed by fear.

Besides his outburst the other day, he had shown nothing but serenity and patience and Cullen wondered if he would have been able to do the same if it were his woman who had gone lost. He realised, and was certain Fenris realised it too, they both reminded each other of the gruesome occurrences the night Kirkwall fell apart and solely because of that horrible event worked on each other’s nerves. Before his thoughts could carry him away the elf spoke.

‘I owe you an apology,’ Fenris said without further ado.

Cullen cocked his brow. ‘Do you?’ Inwardly he blew out some air. The accusations the elf had thrown into his face that other day still itched. Because he simply had been right. Yes, they worked on each other’s nerves. Because they shared the same memories. Evelyn had been on the verge of attacking Fenris and he had just been able to grasp her arm to restrain her from doing that. Because, again, the elf simply had been right. Meredith had gone mad but she had gone mad ages before what happened in the Gallows courtyard and he should have done something about it.

He remembered he had been staring gobsmacked at the statues she had brought to life and someone – he wasn’t certain who at that time but by now knew for sure it had been Varric – had whispered in his ear, ‘And what is the difference between her and a blood mage by now? Between her and the ones she wants to fight?’

There had been none.

And thus he had had no answer.

Yes, he should have interfered far sooner. That negligence still haunted his conscience. He groaned softly and rubbed his brow.

Fenris took a step forward. ‘Yes I do. I lashed out at you while you didn’t deserve that. If it hadn’t been for you we would have been dead in the Gallows. You made the other Templars step back and let us go free. You defended us against Meredith and convinced your fellow Templars to do the same. I owe you my life. We all owe you our lives.’

Cullen felt a twitch, or rather a jolt of guilt and gave him a small smile. Even more vividly he remembered the statues coming to life.

‘If it hadn’t been for your ferocious fighting, we would all be dead as yet.’ He heaved a hand to forestall Fenris’s predictable reaction of brushing those words aside. He jumped head-on into the next painful subject.

‘You were right, I could have intercept and hacked off Meredith’s idiotic actions way sooner. I should have.’ He sighed and bowed his head. ‘I ...’ he hesitated but then clenched his jaw and looked up again. ‘I allowed letting myself lead by the ways of hate and fear for too long because of what happened to me years earlier.’

Fenris said nothing but reacted by just raising one dark eyebrow and Cullen sagged. His own predicament had only lasted a few days, the elf’s had stretched over numerous years. He realised that what the elf had gone through was much worse than what he had had to endure. And that it had taken much longer. And yet that same elf had without a second thought, or perhaps a third after some contemplation, taken his stand and that stand had been behind his woman. He had followed her into the fray because he loved her and, perhaps, even because he felt she was right. Or at least had a point. He had been tortured by mages. By a Magister who had owned him which was perhaps even worse, and nevertheless he had stood by his woman who was a mage. He could still see the determined way with which he defended her and defied Meredith. He felt very humble.

‘I have been a fool, a bias idiot,’ he murmured. He wondered if Evelyn had been the one to take the grave decision, he had been courageous enough to follow her.

‘Yes, I don’t doubt you would have,’ Fenris said and only at that moment Cullen realised he had said his thoughts out aloud. He uttered a brittle chortle. ‘Well, I’m glad you at least think so.’

Fenris let out a sudden laugh. ‘I like to think it is quite hilarious we both detest magic and couldn’t help ourselves falling in love with a mage.’ He cocked his head and added with a wry smile, ‘We even changed the way we look upon magic.’ He added, with one corner of his mouth lifted slightly higher, ‘It almost makes us kin.’

Cullen couldn’t but laugh himself.  ‘I like to think that’s a good thing.’

‘I can only agree,’ Fenris smiled. He became serious the moment after. ‘I want to find her, Cullen, and drag her out of whatever black pit she has fallen in.’ He clenched his fists and his mouth became a straight harsh line. ‘I am serious. If I have to run to Adamant Fortress on my own to save her I will do so.’ He took another step and this one was almost threatening.

Cullen looked into his eyes. ‘The army is ready to march out at this very moment. And so we will. We will find the Champion. We will find your woman and we will save her. I promise you that.’

Fenris relaxed and nodded. ‘I know I can count on you.

-

‘Right,’ Hawke said, looking around, ‘don’t you just hate it when this happens?’ Her expression became pensive. ‘Although, come to think about it, I don’t believe it ever happened before. At least not to me, that is. Not like this. Hm. Does that mean I suddenly changed into a spirit?’ She patted herself. ‘Feels solid enough,’ she murmured nearly absentmindedly. ‘No signs of airiness or some kind of fiery skin or scales whatsoever and I sense a definite lack of horns and tails and pretty dangling delicate golden chains connecting my nipples.’ She wriggled her nose in disgust at the remembrance of bumping into the unsavoury squirts. ‘Nope, no spirit and definitely no demon. And I’m pretty sure I am not dreaming.’ She tilted her head. ‘So, in that case there’s indeed only one likely explanation. I’ve ended up in the Fade in the flesh. Never knew that was even possible.’

She plopped down on a rocky outcrop and puffed out some air. She felt utterly confused if not bewildered, even somewhat giddy, but, to her own surprise, not scared. She knew deep down she should be frantically running around, screaming her lungs out in terror, or like a trembling rabbit be hiding behind one of those rough hewn pillars that surrounded her, huddled-up into herself, but instead she was remarkably calm. She prodded her mind scrupulously to make certain she hadn’t shot through the barrier of hysterics to end up in the stale realm of pure horrified rigidity. But no matter how much she examined her feelings or whatever stern questions she asked herself, she had to come to the strange conclusion there was no trace of fear to be found. This was silly. All this time she had been afraid to lose her sanity to whatever verbal attack the monster launched at her, and now she found herself physically hurled into the Fade, her mind shot into the calm mode.

And she knew it had nothing to do with her being a mage. She had faced and braved the Fade before, on several occasions, but normally she would enter the strange realm in her dreams. The only difference between a mage and a non-mage was that a real mage could steer their – dreams – by lack of a better word. The danger of encountering demons was highly overrated and only advertised by the likes of Meredith and Mother Petrice, though the latter had spent her energy far too much on people running to the Qun, mostly due to her own zealous ideas.

It was as if, now she had fallen into, well not a dream as such but more a nightmare, she became calm. After all, this had been one of her dreads. Not the greatest fear, true, but nevertheless one she didn’t want to suffer.

‘Right,’ she said again.

Her contemplations got disrupted by a low resonating sound that echoed through – the air by lack of a proper description. Just as there existed no time in the Fade, there also was no real air. There was no need for the mixture of nitrogen and oxygen to keep humans breathing, since they weren’t supposed to enter the Fade alive, and neither spirits nor demons needed it to stay in existence. Nevertheless Hawke, to her own amazement, could breathe and what she inhaled at least didn’t suffocate or poison her. It became weirder by the moment. And now it seemed as if a voice tried to make itself heard, but since it uttered no comprehensible words as yet Hawke paid it no heed – again, as yet. There were too many baffling issues to deal with.

For starters there had been the Dragon Lady. She seemed to make a habit out of popping up at the strangest of moments; be it as a real dragon, well, seemingly a real dragon, while whisking away the Darkspawn that were attacking her and her companions, or again as a dragon when she had sealed the promise to deliver back the amulet she had been trusted with. At that occasion, and to be honest also at the first encounter (but back then she had been too dazzled and occupied with other worries to pay proper attention), she had spoken rather prophetic words. Something about shaping the world. Something about leaping into the abyss. She had taken those words, at both occurrences, at face value, not even having the faintest grasp of what she was hinting at and, honestly, not giving a damn. But then she turned up in Skyhold and apparently whisked her away.

And right now, sitting on the stony outcrop in the strangest of environments that only could be the Fade, she contemplated for the first time what the hell Asha’bellanar, as the Elves called her, so she had learned, or Flemeth, the name the humans knew her by (at least Aveline had known her by that name), had tried to tell her. Shape the world. Hurl yourself into some creepy abyss. That was all good and well, but now _she_ had hurled _her_ into the Fade. For what fucking reason?

In the meantime the disturbing background rumble became louder.

Hawke propped an elbow on her thigh and rested her chin in her hand. Time to go over the situation and possible solutions, if available anyway. ‘Thus that means I will not leave the Fade when I wake up since I’m not sleeping.’ She let out an exasperated grunt. ‘I have to find another way out.’ She heaved her head and shouted, ‘Thanks a lot, Dragon Lady!’

Taking into consideration this was rather childish behaviour, she deflated somewhat. ‘And what was that gibberish about me being a teacher? Conquering fear. Yeah right. Easy said, less easy accomplished,’ she grumbled. And then she frowned. If so, then why didn’t she feel anything remotely to fear at the moment? She found herself in an impossible situation in a most depressing surroundings and she didn’t know a way out. Did that mean she had indeed overcome her own fright, or simply by now had gone completely and irrevocably insane? She couldn’t tell.

And then what had once started in the real world as a bothersome murmur like an irritating itch she couldn’t get rid of, and after that had become a biting menace that had soon developed into a booming roar, started to make its existence clear. She realised it was the sound she had discarded moments before (or hours or perhaps even days; again, time was a fickle thing in the Fade). It was the sound of fear. The sound of terror. The voice that had made her run away from her loved one. The voice that had persuaded her to leave behind everything and everyone she cared for. The one that she had thought to have killed and had come back to haunt her.

But this was his great mistake.

He had perhaps succeeded in frightening her but, being Marian Hawke, Marian Hawke stood up and laughed. And while doing so, she shrugged off the last residue of her paralyzing despair.

Because, as Hawke finally experienced, the harder the idiot yelled, the lesser impression he made. She straitened her shoulders. It was a pity she didn’t have her staff with her but even without a weapon or device of magic she could manage. She loosened her wrists and waved her hands as if preparing to build a spell. ‘Your threats are growing old,’ she yelled, feeling relieved. She flexed her fingers, ‘I’ll have you for breakfast!’ she shouted out loud.

But then the monster showed her _how_ exactly he wanted to hurt her.

By giving back memories.

And, oh, how they would hurt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Cole only changed after Adamant, but I took the liberty to use his “near human” form before the hustle and bustle in the fade. Hope you can forgive me.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter because the last one was but some kind of filler and I still worry about the access to internet.
> 
> Well, Josephine is in love and Evelyn comes to her senses.

Wintersend 11

-

A little sad Josephine stared at the empty spot on her desk where the vase with the lovely spring flowers had stood. The army had marched off, save for the soldiers that had stayed behind to defend Skyhold if need be, and Blackwall had gone with them. And so the daily delivery of fresh flowers had come to a halt. She had dried the last little bouquet of crocuses and given it a place in a crystal glass sitting on her nightstand but it was hardly the same. And to make it worse, she slowly but surely became aware she not only missed the flowers but, more critically, missed the one who had gone through the effort to pick them. Pick them for her. She recognized he had made her feel she was special, that she meant something important to him. Meant enough to go through the daily struggle to brave the cold mornings and steep slopes to, in his silent way, tell her that much.

She snorted derisively. Undoubtedly Leliana would state she was growing soft.  How had she put it again..? Ah yes. “Romance is best enjoyed from afar.” Of course those weren’t the Spymaster’s own words, it was a lesson they had all been taught and not without reason. As a bard you had to stay vigilant and giving in to certain feelings would make a person vulnerable. Josephine made a face. Wasn’t it Leliana herself who had tossed that specific lesson aside and learned the hard way? Resolutely she straightened her shoulders. It wasn’t her fault Leliana had fallen in love with the wrong person, that back then her young age had made her gullible and a plaything in the hands of her tutor who without a second thought had betrayed her. It wasn’t her fault it had left Leliana bitter and with distrust for love. Besides that, she wasn’t a bard any longer. She firmly resolved to tell Leliana, when she returned from Adamant Fortress, she could romance anyone she liked and if she’d desire to answer Blackwall’s shy wooing it was her decision to make. She didn’t need a chaperone.

With that resolution made, she turned to the task at hand with a deep contented sigh. Not minutes after she also discarded that task because of lack of concentration and pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the pile sitting on a corner of her desk. She pensively chewed on her pencil. ‘Let’s see. How many gallons of cider do we need? Hmm, should it be cider? Yes, definitely the right drink for a Wintersend celebration. Light and sparkling like spring herself. Are there growing pussy-willows in the vicinity of Skyhold?’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘Can’t say I remember seeing those. Hazels perchance?’ She tapped the desktop with the pencil. ‘I can order them from Val Royeaux,’ she mused, ‘but it would be so much easier and cheaper if we can find them here.’ Another reason to regret the absence of Blackwall; he would have known. Best ask one of the kitchen staff, they ventured into the mountains often enough, if only to find some herbs the chef required. Right. Next topic. Canapés.

She spent the next hour with flushed cheeks scribbling down everything needed for a proper Wintersend. Now even more than ever she was set on the feast. The silence in the castle was eerie, now almost every soldier had gone to take part in the attack on Adamant Fortress. Not that there wasn’t enough bustling left but the atmosphere had changed from boiling over with activities to tense waiting for the outcome. She didn’t doubt that even with a victory there would be mourning. She was certain their troops would win the battle, without any hesitation she relied on the Inquisitor and Cullen, but even so people would be lost. So, afterwards they would need a celebration, if only to drown the inevitable grief. Or at least lessen it or let forget about the pain for a while. And of course to celebrate the glorious triumph.

She looked up at the piece of blue sky she could see through the high set window and again she let her thoughts float away with a faint smile. Awkwardly and somewhat tentatively she tried out on another sheet a few lines of poetry. She had never exalted in poetry and after three or four attempts she crumbled the piece of paper. She grunted frustrated. Picking flowers was ever so more romantic. Say it with flowers when you can’t find the words. Her face lighted up. Of course.

Not half an hour later the guards at the gate frowned astonished when the Ambassador passed them in a great hurry and with a large beam on her face.

She might be lousy at poetry but she could at least return the favour. She was certain it was a sign he would not only understand but even more would relish. When Blackwall would return he would find a dried bouquet of lovely flowers lying on his austere bed above the stables. And she didn’t doubt for a second he’d know where they came from.

-

Hawke found herself as a rolled up ball of pure misery between the ugly rough hewn pillars in the even uglier and suffocating environment she had woken up in. The vile voice still echoed in her head. The horrible pictures still wouldn’t go away. She had started strong enough, standing tall and challenging the voice to do its worst.

And it had.

She thought she had known all of it but as it turned out memories were entirely different from living the moments once again. Remembering how her sister died under the hands of that ungodly beast was not the same as hearing her screams in real and seeing her being squashed to pulp as if she was present again. Feeling the pain of being forced to leave her brother into the care of the Grey Wardens was not the same as experiencing it all over. Seeing her mother staggering as some kind of ragdoll stitched together from other parts of murdered women hit her like she was living the ghastly scene once more.

Anders committing his utter deed of betrayal, Orsino turning into a gruesome abomination, Meredith becoming some kind of raving monster – the screams, the blood, the despair … To be forced to experience those dreadful moments had been hard enough, to live with the memories had been almost impossible; to go through them once more proved to be too much.

And then it had become harsher.

Fenris falling in the battle she had tried to evade or least had tried to keep him from fighting. The child she had whished for dying in her womb. Or perhaps even worse, her womb shrivelling and not being able to carry life at all. The decay, the rot. The smell entered her nostrils and made her gag. At the same moment some still sound small spot somewhere at the back of her brain told her that he, whoever “he” might be, was overdoing it. That he was trying very hard to push her over the threshold of sanity. But she didn’t care anymore. She couldn’t cope. She couldn’t fight off those horrible images. She turned into that pitiable ball of desolation and wished for death. She couldn’t even scream out her anguish but just let out a feeble sob. She would never be able to find a way out of this nightmare and she didn’t care. She would perish in this hellish environment and the moment couldn’t come soon enough. She was ready to give up, ready to surrender.

And then someone – or something touched her head. Touched it with compassioned fingers that seemed to radiate comfort. She should have flown up, she should have reacted with vicious force and swat the intruder aside. Instead she couldn’t move but, to her own astonishment, not because of dread. She felt her head fill with peace. The horrible too real and warped memories slowly evaporated to be replaced with – simple calm. Her racing heart slowed down, her ragged breath evened out, the turbulent current of her thoughts became a quiet river. She let out a small shivering sigh. It felt wonderful.

‘That’s better,’ a new voice said. Hawke frowned slightly. She knew that voice, she had heard it before but couldn’t place it. ‘I cannot make you forget, not anymore, but I can lessen your pain. He is trying to hurt you. I can make that pain go away. Please don’t move.’ A light touch of soft fingers brushed her temple. It gently swept her sorrows back into the corner where they belonged. ‘I can make it better.’

‘Cole,’ she murmured. She felt strangely relieved.

-

The Inquisition Army had pitched camp close to Adamant Fortress in a low dell surrounded by a natural wall of rock and stout boulders. They had made good progress and met Lady Seryl’s sappers and their siege equipment a day sooner than calculated beforehand. The place was strategically well chosen; there was little chance they would be spotted from the Warden stronghold and were sufficiently protected against the wild animals that roamed the area. The soldiers had erected tents in neat lines for the troops and the officers, had dug out latrines and built a corral for the horses. Everywhere fires were burning and meals were prepared. ‘An army may fight on morale, but it marches on food,’ Cullen had declared.

‘And where did you obtain that wisdom?’ Evelyn had laughed teasingly. ‘I never knew you once were a general commanding an army! Or a quartermaster!’

‘It’s common knowledge,’ Cullen had answered a little sullenly, ‘ask Blackwall. He has been a captain in the military, perhaps you’ll believe him when he says it.’

At this moment Evelyn was ambling through the encampment towards the staff-tent. Evening was falling and it was getting dark very fast. At the same time the screeching chorus of the nocturnal insects Varric was so fond of started its night concert. At the entrance of the camp, which was little more than a space between two rocky outcrops, she noticed Fenris standing motionless and attentive as a sentinel, staring at the loom of the Grey Warden Fortress in the distance, just visible against the dark blue sky. She knew she walked silently, nevertheless he turned his head as she passed. They shared a quick glance. Fenris gave her a hardly discernibly nod and Evelyn hurried forwards. She still felt uncomfortable around the elf and it had nothing to do with those unfathomable green eyes that seemed to see right through you. At least that look didn’t affect her as it apparently did Dorian who ever so often let out a little sigh when he thought no one was aware. But she was still angry about the elf’s outburst in the War Room, directed at Cullen. The love of her life didn’t deserve such treatment. She imagined she had caught him several times along the march looking at the elf in a sad way, or perhaps “guilty” was a better expression. And that last look had been one too many; she wouldn’t have it. He had stopped her from reacting then and there and they hadn’t talked about it afterwards but now she had enough of it. Directly after supper he had gone to the staff-tent and she knew it would be a little while before the others would gather there also. She had time to utter her itching irritation that by now was bubbling over and she would rise to the challenge. Damn if she didn’t. So, determinedly she pushed open the entrance and decided to come straight to the point.

‘I have the impression the elf is working on your nerves,’ she said without even as much as a “hello”.

Confused Cullen looked up from the map he was studying in the light of the many burning candles. ‘What? Which elf?’

Evelyn rolled her eyes. ‘The Tevinter one. Fenris.’

With a little sigh the Commander stood straight, ignoring some nasty pops in his spine when he did so. ‘Ah. Fenris.’ He might not understand much about women but it was quite obvious Evelyn had been bothered by that incident at Skyhold. And it was clear her anxiety hadn’t lessened. If nothing else it had evidently only grown worse. ‘He just reminds me of one of my not too finest hours,’ he tried to explain, ‘or better a whole range of actions or better even omissions on my account.’

Firmly Evelyn planted her hands on her hips and stuck out her chin. ‘You don’t have to keep on atoning,’ she said indignantly. ‘You have suffered enough and you don’t need someone to remind you of the mistakes you think you made in the past. You have tried so hard to put things right! It simply isn’t fair to be dealt with a whack around your ears after all these years.’

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, trying to come up with the right words. ‘It’s not about atoning, not exactly anyhow and Fenris is not working on my nerves as such. I just think it’s useful to have someone around to keep me on my toes.’ The little amused smile that accompanied his words escaped Evelyn entirely. If there was anyone who kept him on his toes right now it was her but it seemed she didn’t get the hint. It charmed and puzzled him at the same time. Usually she got everything.

‘And I think that’s rubbish,’ she persisted stubbornly. ‘His rant in the War Room was completely uncalled for! And I’ve seen the way you look at him,’ she added angrily. ‘He makes you feel bad about yourself. Has he any idea what you went through?!’

The Commander walked around the table and took her hands in his. ‘Listen, my love, if there’s anyone who’s gone through a lot of misery and pain, it is Fenris. I don’t know him very well but I do know that particular fact, if only because Varric told about it.’

‘If he understands so well then he could at least show some consideration,’ she persevered with a scowl.

Cullen shook his head and gave her a warm smile. ‘He was defending his woman, I thought you would appreciate that. And besides that, he apologised for his harsh words.’ The warm smile broadened. ‘I get the feeling Fenris is far more working on your nerves than on mine,’ he grinned. Before she could protest he pulled her closer and rested his forehead against hers. ‘In fact, right now you do the same as he has done.’ He put a finger upon her lips because he could feel the raising of her brow and the protest that was taking form under the frown. ‘You are defending me because you think I’ve been wronged, but, however much I value that, it really isn’t necessary. I haven’t been wronged. Not by Fenris anyhow.’

‘But the things he said were hurting,’ she started doggedly, not willing to leave her annoyance so easily. The words sounded rather muffled to begin with because Cullen still had his finger on her lips and it didn’t matter anyway because suddenly she got struck with the image of the elf, standing at the entrance of the encampment, staring tensely at Adamant Fortress. He had looked desolated. She had dismissed the short flickering feeling of compassion because she had still been angry with him, but now it hit her. _He was defending his woman._

Of course he felt worried, worried about the state of mind Marian Hawke would be in and into what kind of trouble it had got her. She sagged. If it had been about Cullen she would have stormed the stronghold on her own, no matter the consequences. If it had been about Cullen she would not have only scolded and above that screamed at everyone in Skyhold but flown at them as well. And damn those fucking consequences. She heaved her head.

‘Ah, good,’ Cullen smiled. ‘I see you finally understand.’

Before she could say anything they got interrupted by a sonorous baritone.

‘I hoped to find you here. Look who I brought!’

They both turned to see Varric who dragged the Grey Warden called Stroud along. Fenris followed in their trail. Cullen let go of Evelyn who on her turn tried to become the Inquisitor once again within a heartbeat. It helped she was of noble upbringing.

‘Warden Stroud,’ she greeted the man, ‘it’s good to see you in one piece. I presume you come with valuable information..?’ The question lingered in the air for a moment. ‘Perhaps we should send for our Spymaster,’ she concluded. And then she caught Fenris’s expression. Had he looked desolated before, now he radiated pure desperation. Her throat clenched and for a moment she didn’t know what to say.

Varric coughed politely. ‘Yes. Yes, you should get Leliana over here. Stroud has indeed valuable information, undoubtedly better information than her scouts can come up with.’

She interrupted him. ‘Where is Marian Hawke?’ Another question that kept hovering for some long moments. Evelyn looked in anticipation at Stroud as if she expected him to conjure up the woman right away.

The Warden let his eyes wander from her to Cullen and back and looked uncomfortable as if he had been asked that particular question before and hadn’t been met with great enthusiasm about the answer. ‘I haven’t seen her.’

‘What do you mean you “haven’t seen her”?’ Cullen sounded not pleased.

Stroud straightened his shoulders. ‘The last I’ve seen of her is when she went with you, Inquisitor, to Skyhold.’

Evelyn felt grateful he didn’t address her by the stupid holy titles the Andrasteans had come up with, the ones she got the feeling from she was worshipped as some kind of saint which gave her the creeps. At least he kept down to earth. She rubbed her brow. ‘I know it’s a silly thing to ask but, for my own sake, are you really certain?’

‘I am,’ he simply stated.

‘That you haven’t seen her doesn’t mean she isn’t there.’ For the first time Fenris raised his voice. ‘She can have slipped in undetected.’

‘Yes elf.’ Varric sounded as if he was telling the same lines for the umpteenth time. ‘That is a possibility. The moon can bounce on Thedas and back into the sky without doing any damage, the Maker can return and declare the Tevinters were right all along, the elves can start ruling Orlais with the blessing of the Empress herself and Hawke can have entered Adamant without anyone noticing. Bloody hell, Fenris, she’s not a rogue and even if she were she couldn’t have accomplished that bloody feat. No one could.’

Fenris’s face became a stony mask. ‘Then I presume you don’t know her as well as you thought you did.’

Exasperated Varric threw his hands in the air. ‘Believe what you want and have it your way.’ With a grim expression he turned to Evelyn. ‘Please send for our dear Spymaster. We have a plan to concoct. You have some decent ale around? I could use one. In fact I’m dying for one.’

Over the dwarf’s head Evelyn caught the look of the elf. She gave him a brittle smile. ‘I believe you,’ she said softly, ‘she is a remarkable woman.’

He gave her a thankful half-smile in return.

-

While Cullen returned to his precious maps, after calling an orderly to fetch Leliana, and Evelyn started fervently looking for some ale, giving up on the task and calling another orderly to get a pitcher, make that a barrel, Fenris sat down on a low stool in a corner of the tent. He rested his face in his hands and tried to calm down. His heart was still racing. He had been so certain Marian would be with Stroud at Adamant. That the fortress had been her goal. He wrecked his mind. Had he done something stupid? Said the wrong thing? He had assured her he would stay with her and they would fight the beast together. That had about been his words. Of course he hadn’t known back then she wished for a child. If so ... if so what. That wouldn’t have changed a thing; he had to admit it even would have strengthened his determination to stand with her. She wasn’t pregnant yet, was she? No, he was certain she would have told him. So why had she disappeared? He couldn’t shake off the feeling something was very wrong, that something had befallen her she hadn’t foreseen. He had to find her but he didn’t know where to look. And still he was convinced somewhere in Adamant lay the answer. He started when a hand touched his shoulder and he looked up in the considerate face of the Inquisitor.

‘I’m sorry I judged you wrongly,’ she said while she offered him a glass of wine, ‘you simply love her and defend her. I know now. And I believe you when you say she can accomplish the improbable and most likely the impossible too. I travelled with her, I should know. I pledge to you we will find her. If need be just the two of us.’

He wanly smiled at her and accepted the proffered glass. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘it’s encouraging to hear someone, besides me, believes in her as strongly as I do.’

It might not be much, but it settled their differences.

-

Little could he know about the ordeals his lover was going through at that same time and even less about the shock that was about to hit her with the strength of a battering ram. Ending up in the Fade would at that moment be the least of her distresses. Even with Cole close at hand to decrease and absorb the worst of the impact of the blow, that blow struck hard. She thought she had undergone the worst but, as always, the worst turned out to be even worse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, yet another cliff-hanger. It just happened. Please don’t get angry and just stay with me!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be quite a surprise at the end of this chapter, believe me … Well, you don’t have to believe me, you could read and find out for yourself, of course.
> 
> Enjoy!

Wintersend 12

-

The start, before the nasty surprise, was fairly relaxed.

Under Cole’s soothing words and gentle strokes Hawke finally had calmed down. The horrible memories and images had, well not evaporated as such, but at least subsided and slithered back into the specific corner of her brain where they belonged. That specific little space where she had locked them up and where only she was allowed to peak once in a while at their gruesome twisted and maimed forms that still made her shiver. So she didn’t peak that often; as a matter of fact she tried to avoid said peaking as much as possible. Only at special occasions she allowed herself to open the lock to the drawer where those memories lingered and stirred, mostly stirred at vain because she didn’t allow them to trouble her peace of mind. But because there _were_ special occasions she couldn’t avoid – well, she could of course if she really wanted to, but that would have taken more effort than simply facing them – she would sporadically let them out of their confinement and into her mind to think about what had happened. To sink back into herself and contemplate.

For example, every year on the day her mother had died she went to a secluded beach at the Wounded Coast to cast a bouquet of white lilies into the surf. The choice of flowers might seem morbid but it reminded her to stay vigilant and look after the ones still with her, and for some strange reason it had helped her to come to terms with what had happened. Still after she and Fenris had had to flee Kirkwall, she had hold on to the tradition. And he had always come with her, as he had done from the first time on.

Even on the first tribute, _yes, tribute was perhaps the best expression_ , she mused, _because I intend to remember and honour my mother by doing this_ , Fenris had accompanied her without so much as a word, although it had occurred not long after their first, and for a long time, last night together. Despite that, his silent presence had been more of a support than she could tell. More than a cartload of explanations and apologies and uttered sympathies could have done.

At that first time he just had stood beside her. She had simply assumed he was too much riddled with guilt about abandoning her after what she had considered a night of love and passion that had gone awfully sour because he had decided to run away. Too riddled with guilt to even look at her. But she respected him for putting up the courage to come with her. So she hadn’t rejected him but just had accepted his being with her at that beach. Frankly, for some reason she herself had taken courage, and comfort, from his still form standing next to her. Perhaps because he had taken her feeble attempt at making amends seriously. They had never talked about it, not with so many words. His presence had, however, prevented her from breaking out into tears and she was still grateful for that.

The year after that he had walked with her to the spot again. That time he had taken her hand into his but again never spoke a word. It had touched her deeply. She had admired him for his determination to stay with her despite her stubborn way of chasing everyone else away. He had been the only one she could suffer at that time. The only one, she now came to notice, who was able to handle her and in return the only one she would accept to keep her in check. She smiled bleakly and turned to the only other person – ha - spirit sitting next to her, who had accomplished what only Fenris ever had could.

He was looking at her intently as if he was trying to gauge her deepest thoughts and feelings. She was quite sure he did it to humour her, although she didn’t know why, or whatever she had done to deserve it. Then she remembered Varric had told her Cole was a spirit of compassion; that at least would explain a lot. He didn’t make an attempt at humouring her. He was serious in his intention to lessen her grief. And, she realised, had done a great job to achieve exactly that.

She took a deep shuddering breath and pushed the memories away; finally she was able to ignore them, now the horrible voice that had told her, or better had boomed through her brain she was a failure and would bring nothing but doom to the world, had been silenced. She heaved her head and faced the boy – the spirit that looked like an innocent boy with too long too unruly hair. He had made the malice gone away, or at least had found a way to keep it at bay. He had brought her peace. She sniffed and blinked. She knew about unruly hair. The elf she loved had unruly hair but this boy took the term to a whole new level. The idiotic hat he wore covered the worst of it, but nevertheless untamed wisps stuck out and lots of it covered his eyes.

Those strange eyes. She couldn’t determine the colour; it hovered somewhere between pale blue and grey with a faint touch of green, but it wasn’t the colour that mattered. It was the intensity that counted. The rate of compassion it radiated. The consolation it not only promised but even more gave. At least it gave her the space to breathe again. And so she did, deeply, and she felt the last remains of her anxiety dissolve.

-

With a heavy heart Cullen watched his loved one enter Adamant Fortress through the gate his troops had forced open. It was harder than he had feared beforehand to let her venture into the stronghold without him to watch over her safety. His fingers twitched and he had to ball his hands into fists to prevent himself from running after her. He wanted to be at her side but knew he had to stay with his soldiers; they needed their Commander harder than Evelyn needed him right now.

This was an alien feeling; he recognised he had never been in love before, not in the strong way he felt for Evelyn. It was frightening. He found he could hardly breathe and had difficulties with steering his thoughts and keep his emotions in check. He was so scared something horrible would befall her. So scared he would lose her. He had tried to sound determined and sensible after his men had broken through the entrance and he had sent her into the fortress, but still his heart beat uncontrollably with fear.

Wanting to watch over her safety… He grimaced reluctantly. Knowing her, it sounded ridiculous; she was perfectly capable to not only defend herself but also to eliminate her opponents altogether. He had to hold on to that conviction.

He was surrounded by the deafening noise and the chaos the battle brought about. Occasionally chumps of bricks came crushing down and thumped heavily on the ground. So far he had managed to avoid them. It made him springy and nervous but at the same time determined to win this battle.

After he had witnessed Evelyn and the companions that where with her entering Adamant to make an attempt at reaching the battlements, he, on his turn, strode to the front of his army and took the lead in the fight to clear a way to the heart of the evil that tried to overtake not only the fortress but, even more important, the whole of Thedras.

And with that he finally managed to shut out his fears and just fight. He still wanted to follow the example of Fenris who frantically had thrown himself into the turmoil to find his woman, regardless the peril he encountered. But at the same time he realised he wasn’t as free as the elf was; he carried a grave responsibility that went beyond the worries he felt for Evelyn. He was the Commander. The Inquisition army relied on him. He couldn’t just give in to the whim to chase after his love to keep her safe. He clenched his jaw and steeled his feelings. They were fighting for the future of the world. At this moment that was all that counted.

-

Hawke puffed out a little sigh and looked at Cole with more attention than she had done before. The attention was mixed whit some anxiety. ‘You did not enter the Fade because you’re dreaming, did you? You’re here in, er, person, I presume..? How did you manage that? You’re not a spirit anymore. Or have you also been sent?’ She fervently tried to get a foothold on sanity. Or rather, to firmly grasp the peace of mind Cole had given her.

‘I _am_ a spirit,’ said Cole, sounding a little hurt.

‘I was under the impression you became a human,’ Hawke reacted, ‘though I have to admit you still have some, how to put it, some significant spirity qualities about you.’ She still floated somewhere in the cloud Cole had spun around her and she tried to get her wits together.

‘I still am a spirit,’ Cole insisted. ‘Somehow, anyway.’

‘At least you used to be one,’ Hawke admitted, ‘and if I’m not mistaken you were a spirit of Compassion.’

Cole heaved himself up. ‘I still remember I was a spirit.’ Hesitation crept in. ‘I cannot make myself invisible anymore,’ he said regretfully. ‘I cannot make people forget any longer.’ He looked at her with large eyes behind his unruly bangs. Those adorable unruly bangs. ‘But I still want to help. That’s why I’m here. I felt your pain.’ He stood on the brink of translating her feelings, or at least telling how he could see how they flashed and wriggled like bright ribbons in her mind, but just in time he remembered how unnerving that had been for other people and he shut his already opened mouth. He hadn’t pulled her out of her deep misery to remind her what for exactly he had done that. He allowed himself a small inward smile. Yes, he was growing. ‘And I am still spirit enough to enter the Fade when I wish to.’

Hawke leant back and regarded him with interest. She realised very well he was the one who had pulled it off to set her mind at ease once more and she wasn’t exactly doing him a service by reacting as she did right now. But she still was on edge and she more or less hoped this one effort to cope with this next extreme encounter – _strange encounter_ , she corrected herself, _strange, not extreme_ – would help to let her regain her nerve. ‘You know,’ she said conversationally as if they had all the time in the world – which was more or less true because time didn’t exist in the Fade, at least not in the way it worked in the real world – ‘most people think the Fade is inhabited by only growling and ill-intentioned and ugly looking demons.’

 Involuntarily her thoughts swivelled to Merrill who stubbornly had kept calling the demon she had summoned a spirit, had talked about it as some kind of pet spirit no less. Until everything had gone terribly awry, of course, and the small elf’s eyes had been opened in the harshest way thinkable. Then again, Hawke mused, Keeper Marethari hadn’t been exactly the classic example of Elvhen wisdom either at that time. She shook her head to get away from the gruesome memory of how the whole tribe had come to their unsavoury end and turned her attention back to Cole. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

Cole cocked his head. ‘You didn’t,’ he said, ‘I never was a demon.’ He added pensively, ‘Although Vivienne still thinks I am one.’ It earned him a sudden splash of merry laughter.

‘I bet she does,’ Hawke grinned. She was amused by just the thought of how Vivienne (“ I am Madame de Fer, darling, but you also could refer to me as Enchanter Vivienne, Court Mage to the Empire of Orlais”) would wrinkle her delicate nose only by the thought of something so atrocious as Cole existing under the same roof. No matter how large that roof might be.

‘Varric helps me to understand more of humans,’ Cole said solemnly. He liked the dwarf.

‘That doesn’t surprise me either,’ said Hawke. ‘He has always been more the helping sort than he is willing to admit. Dear Varric.’ She smiled affectionately. ‘But you still haven’t explained why and how you suddenly popped up at my side. In the Fade. At the most convenient time.’

As he had done when he was still a spirit, lost in a world he didn’t understand, Cole crossed his legs and started to rock himself. At first it had brought him some kind of comfort, now he did it to concentrate. He thought it wouldn’t help anyone if he blurted out what he knew about Solas. No one would comprehend; there would only be a lot of anger and hurt. He understood this because he had grown. He nodded satisfied to himself. But the woman people called the Champion had asked a question and he had to come up with an answer. Pensively he bit his thumb. ‘I felt your pain and I reacted.’

Nonplussed Hawke furrowed her brow. ‘That doesn’t explain why you ended up in the Fade just like that.’

No, it didn’t.

He had found he could, despite his more human form, still easily travel between the two realms. That had been a surprise and he didn’t know how to explain it. He hadn’t been particularly out for entering the Fade; he didn’t miss the place that much. The unsavoury row with Solas had urged him to find and help the Champion, but he could impossibly tell her that. Helplessly and somewhat confused he fell back on his old knowledge, or perhaps behaviour, disregarding his earlier contemplations. He closed his eyes and began some kind of incantation.

_‘The crushing of bones, the screams of anguish, my mother in desperate tears ... this is all my fault, all my fault, she still could have been here if I had acted sooner...’_

He stopped abruptly when he literally felt the woman’s face turn grey. _You know you shouldn’t do that, it makes people upset,_ he thought panicky. He started wriggling his fingers but clamped his hands together immediately after. “Making mistakes is human,” Varric had told him. “Don’t worry too much about it.” But it had never been his intent to upset people, let alone Marian Hawke at this moment. Being human was still very bewildering and difficult.

‘I read it in your thoughts, that’s why I’m here,’ he said apologetically.

Hawke nodded wordlessly, although it wasn’t much of an explanation. It was a good thing she could still feel his fingers brushing away all the sorrows. A Spirit of Compassion. _Justice could learn a lesson or two_ , she thought grimly. She took a deep breath to push away the memory Cole involuntarily had stirred up. In any case, it had been much less worse than the images the booming voice of Corypheus had put her through. She felt at peace again fairly soon.

‘You love the elf that came after you and he loves you and it pains you that you got separated once again,’ Cole went on, clarifying in a less disturbing way what he also had seen in her thoughts.

‘And you probably know I want his child,’ Hawke mocked, weakly but glad with the distraction.

‘And the demon told you there will be none,’ Cole completed this specific fear.

Hawke mused this strange conversation was swiftly turning into some kind of game of Guessing the Painful Topic that nobody could possibly want to play, let alone win. She decided to change the subject. ‘Have you seen the Dragon Lady? She was the one who hurled me into this place. Told me I had to teach the others to conquer their fears. I don’t have a clue what she was talking about.’

Cole sucked in a considerable amount of air. Figuratively. Air, as time, was a matter of speaking in the Fade. ‘The Lady,’ he murmured, ‘I know the Lady. Did she bring you here?’

Hawke nodded frantically. ‘Damn well she did. She snared me back in Skyhold and the next thing I knew I had ended up here.’

The moment Cole opened his mouth to reply, another voice interfered.

‘I thought I would find you here. I felt your presence.’

Hawke stiffened.

-

Fenris was fighting frantically and at the same time methodically through the throng of Grey Wardens and the demons their mages had conjured up, to sweep the battlements of Adamant Fortress clean of enemies. Up till now he hadn’t felt even the slightest sign of Marian’s presence but stubbornly he kept going on. She had to be here. Somewhere. She _had_ to.

He followed the Inquisitor’s lead because it was the only lead he had. She had succeeded in getting the Grey Warden warriors on her side and now, after they had managed to free the battlements of resistance, they entered the main courtyard. His breath hitched.

Here they found the true source of the evil that held Adamant in its grip. It was not just the foul Tevene magic Livius Erimond radiated in his ultimate attempt to let Warden-Commander Clarel do his bidding. Fenris knew, even after all these years, how Tevene magic felt and tasted. This went beyond that malevolence. The Tevene black magic seemed like a benign blessing compared to this. He comprehended all too well this was Corypheus’s doing, that all this was due to his dangerous compelling influence . It sickened him and his hands ached to end it. He almost had to vomit. It didn’t help hearing the Grey Warden called Blackwall plead for the assistance of what remained of the sane part of the order to choose the Inquisition’s side. With itching fingers he heard the Inquisitor trying to interfere and even to parley and the inevitable battle came almost as a relief. The reply was complete chaos.

After that, things became blurry.

-

‘What the fuck are _you_ doing here?’ Hawke breathed exasperated.

Anders spread his hands in a peaceful gesture. ‘There’s much to explain,’ he said soothingly, which only helped to kindle her fury even more. He recognised the fiery look in her eyes. He had seen it on the rare occasions she was about to explode. It was frightening, although he had expected this beforehand and had tried to steel himself against it. ‘Please hear me out,’ he added pleadingly.

Hawke stood up from her boulder; she threateningly heaved her head and straitened her shoulders in a way that promised nothing good. She seemed to tower several feet over him, if only because he shrank back under her deadly glare. ‘You have ten seconds,’ she hissed, ‘starting from now.’ Her eyes were ablaze. ‘Just ten seconds before I kill you. So be very cautious with what you want to say. And choose your words carefully. My patience runs very thin. You’re warned.’ 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And Anders enters the scene. I thought him too important in the whole drama to simply neglect him or to mention him as some kind of aside.
> 
> By the way, I always found Cullen’s attitude the moment Evelyn went into Adamant Fortress rather pragmatic. The least he could have done was telling her to be careful, stupidly as it might have sounded. But perhaps that’s just my incurable romantic nature.
> 
> Having that off my chest, thank you for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

Wintersend 13

-

After Hawke had jumped up and stood with flaming eyes glowering at Anders, an awkward silence fell. The mage, who had the dubious honour of being dubbed “The Butcher of Kirkwall”, got visibly nervous under her glare. Her aggressive stance indicated she’d gladly smite him on the spot. Briefly the thought that this could be a demon shot through her mind, but she dismissed the idea at the same moment. A demon she would have recognized and, besides that, no demon would be so stupid as to disguise himself as the Butcher of Kirkwall anyway. Not around her.

Anders moved his hands and heaved them to ward off Hawke’s fury. ‘I understand you’re angry with me...’

‘Angry?!’ spat Hawke. ‘Anger doesn’t even come close to what I feel! You blew up a Chantry full of innocent people, committing mass murder; you killed the Grand Cleric and you didn’t even feel guilty about it! And afterwards you simply sneaked away like a thief in the night, leaving others to cope with the mess you left behind!’ She narrowed her eyes and hissed venomously, ‘But you got your wish, didn’t you! You started the mage rebellion and brought the whole world in an upheaval! You must be so proud of yourself!’ Anders tried to interrupt her but she didn’t let him. ‘I trusted you, godsdamned! I trusted you and you took advantage of that trust! You abused my friendship and made me accessory to your disgusting deeds!’ Even after four years the pain hadn’t lessened and at this moment, at this unforeseen confrontation, it flared up, together with the desolation and anger and guilt that still simmered inside her.

Anders hung his head. ‘I know,’ he said softly, ‘and that still grieves me.’

‘You’d better grieve for all those lives you sacrificed that day,’ Marian snarled in a dangerously low voice, ‘but I doubt you give a bloody shit about any of your victims. I wager you’re still strutting around like an arrogant peacock, utterly satisfied with your fucking accomplishments.’

Anders let out a deep sigh. His hands fell down, dangling along his thighs. ‘Ironically, as a matter of fact, my actions didn’t lead to the mage rebellion.’

‘I don’t _believe_ this!’ Hawke cried out indignantly. ‘Even now you’re denying every responsibility!’

But the other mage shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, sounding tired, ‘I don’t.’ He didn’t dare to look at her and instead closed his eyes. ‘Please believe me when I say it was the hardest decision I made in my entire life and everything I did is on my own head.’ He smiled bleakly, opening his eyes again. ‘I told you this before.’ He swallowed. ‘In hindsight, though, my actions were for naught; it’s disturbing and troublesome to find out that so many died in vain.’

Hawke clenched her fists. ‘Of course they died in vain,’ she growled. ‘Your idiotic zealous ideas don’t rectify even one death, let alone the amount of deaths you caused. And I don’t only mean the exploded Chantry and the carnage in Kirkwall, but also what followed in almost every part of Thedas, where mages and Templars fought out a bloody war.’

Jadedly Anders rubbed his face; he looked pleadingly at her. ‘I didn’t start the fire. I know it sounds ridiculous but I happen to know the Seekers are to blame for it.’

Incredulously Hawke stared at him. ‘And I am supposed to buy that load of crap? Pull the other one!’

Slowly and with the weary care of an old man Anders sat down.  He grimaced painfully. ‘I don’t assume they did it on purpose, at least there’s no proof of that.’ He looked intently up at her and through her thundering rage Hawke got the feeling something was off. ‘Did you know the Seekers were the ones who invented the Rite of Tranquillity?’

Hawke shrugged, trying to disregard the nagging feeling. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out they did,’ she said curtly.

‘They developed the Rite for themselves at first,’ Anders went on, ‘but although that’s remarkable enough, it’s only half of the story.’

Hawke frowned, despite herself getting interested.

‘Apparently it’s part of their training,’ Anders clarified, ‘or more specific: of the Vigil they take before they become a real Seeker.’

‘They don’t strike me as very tranquil,’ Marian said suspiciously, ‘rather the opposite.’

‘Indeed,’ Anders reacted grimly, ‘and that’s exactly the point. The Rite of Tranquillity is reversible.’

When the enormity of the words got through to her, Hawke plopped abruptly down, her eyes wide. ‘ _What_?’

‘Yes. They managed to keep it a secret for ages, and they continued keeping it a secret, even after the Chantry began to abuse the Rite for their own means. It has probably been the biggest secret in Thedas, together with the Initiation of the Grey Wardens.’

‘Then how did you obtain this wisdom?’

Anders blew out some air. ‘I’ve been wandering around-‘

Hawke interrupted him, snorting. ‘Fleeing for your life more like,’ she couldn’t help remarking mordantly.

‘That too. But during those travels I met many people and one of them told me the true story. Till then I was under the impression the rebellion had started in Kirkwall but now I know it started months earlier, when the truth about the Rite came to light.’ He added wryly, ‘Not with such a big bang obviously, but still. And no wonder too. To use the Rite as some kind of punishment to silence mages who ask tricky questions is bad enough; to cover up the fact the sentence can be undone is no less than a crime.’

Hawke missed the heated undertone with which those words should have been uttered. Or at least would have been uttered in the past. It brought her off balance. She rubbed her brow to get rid of the disturbing emotion and to hold on to her anger.

‘Well,’ she said through clenched teeth, ‘on that at least we agree.’

In a flash she thought of Cassandra and wondered if she knew about this. ‘Who found this out?’

‘Exposed it, you mean. It was a Seeker who blew the lid off the dirty situation.’

Off balanced turned into complete bewilderment. ‘A Seeker? Really?’ Again her thoughts swirled to Cassandra. But although the woman had left the organisation, Hawke couldn’t imagine she would make such information public, if she was even informed on it. ‘And who might this extraordinary person be?’

‘He went by the name of Alphonse de Clarence.’

‘Went?’

‘He joined the mages’ insurgence and fell in one of the first skirmishes. Among the mages he became some kind of legend.’

Hawke cocked her head and shot him a smile that went beyond sarcasm. ‘I see someone else took your thunder,’ she said with a generous splash of scorn, remembering the phrase her brother had thrown into her face when she accidently stumbled upon him in the Deep Roads while they were looking for Nathaniel Howe. ‘Oh the irony! Now I understand why you said all those people died in vain.’ She snorted derisively. ‘That must have come as quite a blow! – forgive me the expression - Gone was the image of the Great Liberator of all Oppressed Mages! I hope by now you see how outlandish the ideas were Justice has been stuffing your head with for years - ’

She stopped abruptly. Finally she saw what was wrong. The last time they had ended up in the Fade together, the spirit had more or less pushed the healer aside, taking the lead in a near insufferable haughty if not conceited way. Now he was conspicuous by his absence. That was not only strange, it was even disturbing. ‘Where _is_ Justice?’

‘He’s gone,’ Anders murmured hoarsely.

‘Gone? Where?’ asked Hawke, taken aback. ‘I thought you and he were too much intertwined? That you couldn’t be separated?’

Anders worried his lower lip and stared into the distance. ‘He brought me here on my request. Once, many years ago, he got hurled out of the Fade and decided to stay in our world.’

‘I know that,’ Marian interrupted him impatiently, ‘you told me the story. Black March blah blah evil woman, Justice ending up in the body of a Grey Warden etcetera. Please skip the tale and come to the point.’

Anders screwed his eyes shut and his face contorted. ‘Between everything that has happened over the years since I fled Vigil’s Keep, I almost forgot I am still a Grey Warden.’ His eyes flew open in an instant and he looked intently at her.  She was shocked by the sad, no, devastated expression he radiated. ´But the past always finds a means to catch up with you, no matter how hard you try to run from it or deny it.´ Marian got a nasty suspicion where this would lead to. ´I had the Calling, Hawke. I am going to die the Grey Warden death.’

-

Cullen came with a complement of his soldiers rushing into the courtyard, only to see the Inquisitor with her companions running up the stairway leading to the battlements, racing after Clarel. The final battle that should have taken place here, apparently already had been nipped in the bud. On the other hand, to his dismay, the blasted dragon that had played such a significant part in the destruction of Haven had turned up, but despite its threatening and terrifying appearance no panic broke out. The Grey Wardens reacted almost instinctively, determined to kill the beast, while the Inquisition soldiers, no less determined, as good as ignited with feelings of hot revenge. Cullen took in the situation and in a split-second decided his next move.

‘Stay here and keep the mages in check!’ he ordered, knowing very well not a small number of his soldiers would be frustrated by such an order, but trusting at the same time they would obey him. He set off in pursuit of Evelyn. Now the battle of Adamant Fortress was won, there was no power in the world able to keep him from protecting his woman. Not even the small persistent voice that kept badgering at the back of his brain, pointing out he was acting utterly selfish, leaving his soldiers alone to give in to his own anxiety. He simply ignored it, pushing on as fast as he could.           

He raced up the steps of several staircases, a few times almost losing his footing in his haste to reach Evelyn, slithered through the gore of the killed demons she had left in her wake, all the while dodging the magical fire the archdemon spewed around. He came just in time to witness how Commander Clarel struck Erimond down and fell in a heroic attempt to kill the dragon. At least she succeeded in crippling the monster and in its urge to get away from the scene it caused considerable damage to the fortifications. In a fast tempo the construction began to crumble and fall to pieces. To his utmost horror Cullen saw Evelyn plummeting into nothing.

‘No!!’ he bellowed and started running.

-

All Hawke’s het-up anger evaporated after Anders’s words. After the events in the Deep Roads where he had saved her brother by handing him over to Stroud, and Maker, that was such a long time ago, she had never thought of Anders as a Grey Warden. Not in the least because he never acted as one. Not even when they had fought darkspawn together – _damn I should have known better!_ But, of course, she had always known he technically was a Grey Warden. With all the consequences that came with it. She laid her hand on his that rested on his knee and squeezed softly. ‘I’m sorry.’

Anders smiled faintly. ‘Don’t be. I knew that sooner or later it would happen, no matter how hard I tried to ignore the fact.’ His smile brightened a little. ‘The moment I got conscripted by the Hero of Ferelden, who was at that time the Commander of Vigil’s Keep, it saved my neck from a too fanatical Templar. If Elissa hadn’t interfered I would have died much earlier; so you can say I lived on borrowed time anyway.’

Hawke raised her brows. ‘Is that your way of cheering yourself up?’

‘Something like that.’ He blinked to force back the sudden awkward stinging tears; her unexpected touch moved him more than he had expected or wanted to.

‘I thought,’ Hawke began hesitantly, ‘I thought Grey Wardens ventured into the Deep Roads when they heard the Calling. That's the legend anyway.’

‘They do,’ Anders nodded, ‘and, frankly, it was my plan to join the Legion of the Dead in their never-ending fight against the darkspawn. But I didn’t want to drag Justice along. The thought of the chance of him possessing a darkspawn body after my death was rather appalling.’

Marian suddenly had to laugh. ‘Indeed! I don’t think even the rebellion is ready for a darkspawn preaching freedom for mages!’

Anders also laughed but became serious immediately after. ‘I came to the Fade in the hope to persuade Justice to leave me before I will perish and to return him to, how to put it, to his natural habitat. It was a long shot, of course, but to my immense relief it worked.’ Pensively he added, ‘I fear I let loose a totally confused and twisted spirit but he won’t be worse than the demons that roam the place. The worst that can happen, I think, is that he’ll become the butt of their jokes, but he won’t understand any of them anyhow. In all the time he spent in the world he never developed a sense of humour.’ He cocked his head. ‘I must confess I feel calm, almost serene. I’ve lived with his permanent pressure for so long that I had forgotten how quiet it felt, without that never ceasing chatterbox inside of my head.’

Hawke bit back sudden tears and forced herself to stay sensible. ‘Do you have any idea where he is now?’

‘No,’ said Anders, ‘he simply disappeared. It was like throwing a fish back into the ocean.’

‘You never told me you knew how to physically enter the fade,’ Hawke said, sounding a little hurt.

‘I _didn’t_ know. Justice pointed out the many rifts that have appeared recently. I don’t know where they come from or who created them but I made use of one of those. I assumed that’s how you ended up here too. For whatever reason.’

‘Ah yes,’ Hawke said, sagging. She removed her hand from his and folded it with her other one in her lap. ‘Remember Corypheus? That creepy – thing that kept bleating about the Dark City and being an acolyte of Dumat?’

‘How could I forget him? That battle was one to remember, amongst other things.’

‘Yes. Well. It turns out he wasn’t as dead as we thought he was.’

Anders bolted upright, alarmed. ‘Tell me everything.’

-

The moment Anders popped up, Cole had retreated and blended into the shadows between the rough pillars. He observed the mage but at first didn’t know what to make of him. He seemed to have a large gap in his mind as if he had been deprived of a part of his personality. It wasn’t until the man mentioned the spirit Justice he began to understand.

He knew of mages who were possessed by spirits or demons; they used them to do harm. They felt hard and cold as iron and at the same time they burned with greed. Cole feared them and was afraid that some day one of them would ensnare him. But this mage felt different. There was a lot of hurt, feelings of guilt, sadness. And there was something else, something dark and sinister, something foul, devouring him. It was hard to place it but then it hit him, _darkspawn taint._ Cole understood the mage was, in fact, slowly dying and he felt sorry for him. Through the contamination and all the scars his soul bore, he caught glances of dedication and even happiness, now covered with a sheen of remorse and deep pain. There was something horrible the man had done and he wanted to atone; Cole saw his resolution as a bright silver thread weaving through his essence.

He was so absorbed with surveying the strange mage, he only noticed the other entity when she was already upon him and touched his arm. Cole almost jumped but then recognised her; at least he recognised her for what she was: a spirit of Compassion, just like him. And immediately after he sensed how weak she was. The soft light that surrounded her flickered as if it was about to extinguish and would take her life-force with it.

‘Will you help me?’ she whispered, her voice not more than a faint wisp of sound.

Automatically his hand shot out to steady her. ‘Of course I will. What do you need?’

-

Evelyn felt herself tumble through dimensions that got shredded apart and pressed together at the same time, though it might well be at different times, since time was a dimension as well.

She went down in a screeching chaos with all the other dimensions. She tried to assure herself this was a part of the extreme solution she had been forced to take but failed gloriously. Her head was spinning and her stomach churned; in fact all of her innards lurched as if her intestines were fervently trying to stay into place or, for that matter, were fighting to change place with each other. But above all bizarre sensations, emotions of raw panic were surging through her body and mind. She had heard Cullen’s scream and for a moment had glimpsed his face, contorted in desperation, standing out on the lip of the abyss. No way in the world she could tell if he had jumped towards his death or had been hauled back just in time by someone who had held their wits together. But she knew for certain that if he had jumped, he had been too late to get caught in the maelstrom she had created. She had wanted to shout out at the top of her lungs but her lungs, as the rest of her body parts, weren’t under her command any longer. She only succeeded in producing a feeble sob.

-

With a deep sigh the old woman, known by many names – and she considered “Dragon Lady” as some kind of honorific – turned away from the scene. She nodded at Solas, standing just behind her. ‘We have done all we could,’ she said softly.

The elf watched her with an unreadable expression. ‘You mean you’ve stretched your meddling as far as was possible without demolishing the world,’ he stated coolly.

Over her shoulder she gave him a sly smile. ‘For someone who risked so much you still have the courage to criticize me.’ She winked at him. ‘That’s what I like about you.’

Solas rolled his eyes at her retreating back but couldn’t help smiling himself.

‘It’s up to them now,’ he heard her say, ‘to the peoples inhabiting Thedas I mean. Personally I have my hopes on the two remarkable women who have it in them to shape the world as they go.’

 _Demolishing the world?_ She had difficulties not to snigger out loud. _I believe there are other persons we should fear for doing just that._

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was quite a lot of information I fear. I know it took me a long time to come up with it and I also know I’m busy maiming the whole tale. To my defence I’m just trying to keep it interesting. I hope you’ll forgive me.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and staying with me!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fade is still quite a puzzle to me, no matter how hard I try to unravel its mysteries. Forgive me if I’ve got it wrong...
> 
> Nevertheless, enjoy!

Wintersend 14

-

Evelyn took a gulp of air, at least she hoped it was a gulp of _air_. She considered it a pre the environment hadn’t instantly killed her. She was entirely aware of where they had ended up; she was a mage, after all. She just hadn’t anticipated that opening a rift in a last desperate effort to save their lives would lead them to this realm. It boggled her mind and that was not the only thing her mind had to cope with. Humans and elves only entered the Fade in their dreams; it was absurd that opening a rift would catapult them into the domain of demons and ghosts. And although she knew perfectly well _what_ she had done, she didn’t know _how_ she had done it. For now she was grateful her decision hadn’t taken her life and hoped fervently the same counted for her companions, that they hadn’t ended up as bloody corpses smeared all over the floor. At this moment her own state of mind – and body, took too great a deal to inspect to check on them as well, although she struggled hard to get a grip. Her head was still reeling. To be honest, at first she didn’t know up from down and when she finally found out, down actually turned out to be up.

What happened to Cullen? She had no idea and it haunted her already tortured mind. She still heard his desperate cry and saw his frame as an afterglow standing out against the fiercely lit battlement, or what was left of the battlement, poised to jump. In her wild swirling fantasy she actually saw him jump. Jump to his death. She imagined she had screamed to him to stay put but couldn’t remember she really had done that. Things very quickly had become a blur, or better a dazzling cyclone. Even now she still was too dazed to think clearly.

The first sound that came through to her was a low protesting grumble. Despite everything it made her smile.

‘”Join the Inquisition, Chief,” he said. “They follow a just cause, Chief,” he said. “It will be good for your soul, Chief,” he said.’

And all the while the at starters soft rumble regained volume. Evelyn’s newborn smile was very fragile. _Just let him rumble on, you know how he is. A big softy_. She cringed. Big? Yes. Softy? No. But he needed to blow off some steam _. Just let him._

 _‘_ Damn bastard. Never told me it would lead me through a bleeding tornado that tried to rip my innards inside out. Where the fuck are we anyway?!’

Yep. No person better than the Iron Bull to jerk you back to reality. Whatever that meant down here. Or up here.

At last Evelyn ended on her feet. Or scrambled onto her feet. ‘We are in the Fade,’ she said, sounding as steady as she could manage. ‘I can only imagine the rift took us here.’ She looked around. ‘Although, to me the Fade never looked like this.’ What this looked and even more felt like, was a hostile and sinister place. In dreams the Fade could be difficult, harsh even. But never so completely ripped from reality with the threat of something ominous waiting around the corner. This place resembled a child’s deformed nightmare.

‘Ah yes, that makes it so much better,’ Bull complained, ‘let’s fall down a spinning abyss and end up in Demon Town.’

‘Would you rather you’d be dead?’ said Evelyn pointedly. ‘If I hadn’t opened that rift people would by now be scraping your remains off the ground.’

The Bull just groused something unintelligible under his breath although that expression hardly did credit to the rumbling loudness of his voice.

‘I must say, the times I roamed the Fade the place didn’t look like it was knocked together by someone with such an appalling taste of architecture,’ Dorian remarked drily. ‘Not to mention the repulsiveness of the applied decorations. It goes against every form of aesthetics and common taste.’ He didn’t seem much upset by the circumstances or else he masked it well. He looked around with slightly furrowed eyebrows as to express his disgust.

‘I don’t think whoever made this place has the intention to impress us with his impeccable feeling for style,’ Varric reacted. He hazarded a glance at Fenris; he feared the elf would get a lethal outburst. He had already been as strained as it was and Varric couldn’t imagine this unexpected turn of events would help to ease his state of mind. Not only because they found themselves in the last place the elf wished to visit but also, perhaps even more, because of the shameful memories connected to this very place. To be precise, to the moment he had fallen for the promise of a demon and had betrayed Hawke by doing so. Back then Hawke had been very lenient about the whole situation but Varric knew it had bothered Fenris for a long time. His wary askance peek, however, taught him nothing about the elf’s inner thoughts. Fenris’s face was unreadable; at best his overly alert posture gave away something of his distress but then again, he always was alert. Typical warrior behaviour, alert and composed. Perfect poker-face. Which had cost him more than one precious sovereign during Diamondback. Damned elf.

Stroud rolled his shoulders and flexed his muscles. ‘I don’t care what it looks like around here; I’m more interested in getting out. Can we use the same rift?’

Evelyn drummed with her fingers on her thigh. Resolutely she chased away the last residue of her dizziness and anxiety. Time to become practical and act like a leader. ‘That could well be the case.’ She looked upwards and through narrowed eyes she could discern, far up, a greenish vortex. ‘But we’ll have to reach it first.’ She offered the others an encouraging smile. ‘I suppose everything is better than hanging around here.’

Fenris took a determined step forward. ‘Then we better get started.’ His heart was stammering in his chest and he knew for certain that if he didn’t undertake something right now, he would turn into a pool of despair. He had rode with the Inquisition to Adamant to rescue Marian from whatever it was she had fallen prey to, including her own anguish, but right now he seemed farther away from that goal than ever.

-

More or less at the same time Hawke said pensively, ‘You know, I had expected scores of demons clustering around us by now, if only out of curiosity. I mean, I can’t imagine it occurs often that a living soul, let alone two, take a leisurely stroll in their horror park.’ Like mentioned before, she hadn’t much experience with encountering demons in the Fade, but this part of the realm seemed simply been made for their evil intentions.

Anders chortled. ‘Leisurely?’

Hawke shrugged her shoulders. ‘As a matter of speaking.’

‘Perhaps  that’s the reason why they’re keeping their distance, for now. They don’t know what to make of us.’

‘Hm.’ She rose and started to pace up and down. ‘You might be right. But they won’t keep their distance forever. Not after they’ll find out how vulnerable we, in fact, are. And I have no doubt they will find out very soon. And besides that ...’ She turned to face him and stopped pacing. She folded her arms in front of her bosom and began tapping her foot. ‘You know what I don’t understand?’ She caught Anders’s amused expression. ‘Amongst lots of other things, obviously,’ she forestalled a little irritably his predictable response.

‘Sorry.’ Anders stifled a smirk. ‘I just feel somewhat giddy since Justice’s absence. Don’t mind me. What do you not understand?’

She took a breath. ‘If Flemeth wanted me to teach the others how to overcome their fears, why on earth did she send me here? How am I supposed to teach them anything when they’re not around?’

‘You have a fair point,’ Anders had to admit. ‘But maybe she meant you have to conquer your own nightmares before you can start to play the teacher?’

Hawke rubbed her chin with her knuckles. ‘That makes sense, I give you that. Didn’t think about it that way.’

‘And? Did you?’

She looked up, frowning. ‘Did I what?’

‘Conquer your nightmares. Maker’s balls! What happened to the bright, sharp-witted and intelligent woman I used to know?!’

Hawke smiled apologetically. ‘I suppose I feel a bit giddy myself.’ _Apparently too giddy to adequately notice the change in Anders,_ she thought. ‘But to answer your question: yes I did. Though I had help. I’m quite certain I couldn’t have managed on my own.’ Suddenly she wondered where Cole had gone.

The solution to that riddle presented itself not a moment later when she saw Anders’s eyes widen while he spotted something behind her back. She swirled on her heels, instinctively reaching for the staff that didn’t rest against her back but she relaxed when she spotted Cole showing up from behind one of those ugly rough pillars. Her brows knitted in confusion when she recognized the creature he had in tow. She was fairly sure it was the spirit that had floated around her just after she had entered the Fade, but she didn’t have a clue about how those two had ended up together. The creature was surrounded by a faint light but it was flickering, as if she was having difficulties with keeping it going on. As if she was about to extinguish.

Anders had jumped up and was already wielding his staff. Hawke’s hand shot out and clasped around his wrist. ‘Don’t; they represent no danger. I know them.’

Before she could say anything else, there rolled a low rumbling noise that resonated almost painfully in every part of her body; the air (by lack of a better word) pressure increased considerably for an indefinable amount of heartbeats until it seemed to push the very wind out of her lungs; a fountain of flashing white spots erupted behind her eyes. Defencelessly she sank on all fours, struggling for breath, hoping her brain wouldn’t dribble out of her ears. And then there sounded a clap as from a far away thunder and as sudden as it had descended, the pressure lifted. Blissful silence floated back.

When she heaved her head, panting, she looked into the serene smiling face of Cole. ‘They have arrived,’ he said.

-

Cullen groaned; even in his own ears it sounded pitiable. It felt as if all the bones in his body had been crushed and if his innards had been twisted or torn apart. He got the impression his head got incessantly hit by a blacksmith’s hammer and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. The last time he had felt this way he had been young, foolish and very drunk, or rather terribly hung over, after a night of boozing with his fellow Templars to celebrate his formal initiation. Since he was positive he couldn’t be drunk, he came to the other evident conclusion: he must be dead. He opened one bleary eye and was surprised to find he wasn’t lying in a puddle of blood.

If this was the afterlife, there would be a whole queue of pressing questions champing at the bit, with impatience waiting to be answered.

He tried to come to his senses and to track back the trail of occurrences.

He knew he had jumped from that battlement after Evelyn in raw panic. He also knew it had been utterly stupid; he was the first to admit it. He should have refrained himself, even in the state he had been, in before that fatal leap into black uncertainty. If he would still be alive and able to think clearly he would have scolded himself. He should have listened to that tiny piece of his being still capable to think sensibly, just before that critical moment; that tiny piece that had tried very hard to prevent him from jumping into that eerie spiral in the first place. That tiny piece that had told him he was the Commander of the Inquisition. That he shouldn’t give in to his feelings, give in on a feeble whim. Give in to the love he carried ... carried for ... for her. For Evelyn.... He clenched his jaw.

And yet he had done precisely that.

He groaned once more. Louder this time. Idiot he had been.

But at the same time a sound of protest raised its at first feeble voice. What now idiot. What was wrong with giving in to love? He recognized it was his education that tried to get the best of his conscience. Or perhaps, and even worse, it was the screeching voice of Knight Commander Meredith that in a malicious echo rasped down his brain, trying to feed all his prejudice and the manipulating rubbish he, for such a long time, had believed was true. The voice of protest became louder and shook him back to – yes, to what exactly.

Now he opened both his eyes. Was he really dead? This, whatever _this_ was, didn’t feel like death. It felt more like he was in the wrong place. A very wrong place at that. A place that attempted to play havoc on his mind.

Where the hell _was_ he?

He corrected himself.

Where, or what for Andraste’s sake was this place?

Then he got the prickling sensation someone was watching him and he jerked his head up. That was a mistake. Immediately dark specks blurred his vision and to make it worse, the someone obtained a voice and said, ‘I know how you feel, old chap. I was quite confused myself at first, to be honest. And _I_ chose to come here. Never thought, though, it would be like this.’

He knew that voice. Like Meredith’s it was an echo from the past and just as unwelcome.

Cullen stared in utter surprise and bewilderment. Slowly but surely the smudged curtain before his eyes parted and he could see clear. ‘Anders,’ he breathed. _Red smoke and screams and blood ... a horrifying explosion..._

‘Yep,’ the mage nodded, ‘the one and only. I believe the rather sinister honorific is “The Butcher of Kirkwall”. Does that trigger your memory?’  He radiated a nasty sort of cheerfulness. ‘And in the flesh no less.’ He stretched out a hand to help him up, a hand Cullen forcefully declined. _Smoke and screams..._ Wobbly he managed to get onto his feet. He glared unfocused though menacing at the other man. ‘Are you dead?’ He felt silly for asking. ‘Are _we_ dead?’

To his dismay Anders started laughing. ‘Not yet, Knight Captain. No wait, Commander it is nowadays, isn’t it?’

Cullen rubbed his brow, trying with all his might to dismiss the horrible memories this voice brought up. ‘I should arrest you,’ he mumbled, ‘bring you to justice.’

Anders laughed even harder. It sounded a little hysterical. ‘Sorry to tell you, Commander, you just missed him.’

For some reason or the other Cullen got the feeling something was amiss. Well, a whole range of things were amiss, but this Anders didn’t act at all like the mage he remembered. ‘Who are you?’ he murmured. _Demon_ , shot through his mind, but he decided that was another foul echo. He accepted Anders’s hand in the end, to lead him to some rock on which the other man planted him down with gentle determination.

‘This may come as a shock,’ he warned him, ‘but you are in the Fade.’

‘So I’m dead after all,’ Cullen concluded, now completely dazed.

‘Not in the least. And as far as I’m given to understand, neither is your woman. But you arrived here shortly after her. She opened a rift, you know, to prevent she and her companions would get smashed to pulp. I think you caught the tail-end of whatever she created and so you ended up in another part of the Fade. And with a much tougher impact, I imagine.’ He looked him over. ‘I at least hope she’s in better shape.’

Helplessly Cullen leant back and covered his eyes. His ears still pounded agonizingly. But then Anders’s words hit home. ‘Evelyn is still alive?’ Hope arose.

Anders cocked his head and scrutinised the other man. He hadn’t been his biggest enemy in Kirkwall but had represented the order he had fought a considerable deal of his life. Back in those dark days he would never have believed he would ever feel sympathy for him.  And right now he did just that. His expression softened.

‘Yes,’ he said quietly, ‘she is alive.’

Now Justice and his everlasting menacing words had left him, he could remember how love had struck him. More than once. And how that had influenced him. Not in a bad way, he had to admit, far from that. Not even his unanswered love for Marian Hawke would have left a bitter taste in his mouth, hadn’t it been for Justice. It was that blasted spirit who had twisted those tender feelings and had disfigured them by pointing out they were leading him from the just cause they were aiming at. He had fed his jealousy, his envy of Fenris. He had poisoned him with his hatred. Anders closed his eyes. No, that was not fair. Justice had not borne any hatred at all in the beginning. He grimaced. They had been a bad influence upon each other, to put it mildly. And even though he knew he was dying, he was glad they were now separated, if only for this short lasting time. It was good to experience his old self again. It was good to die as his old self.

‘Where is she?’

Cullen’s still hoarse voice drew him back into the here and now. With a jolt he opened his eyes. ‘I don’t know exactly; time and place are hard to define in the Fade. But I have some good leads. Do you trust me?’

The Commander of the Inquisition glanced askew at the mage sitting next to him. _The Butcher of Kirkwall_ , he reminded himself. Even Anders himself had used the grim expression;  but he could see little of that sinister title in the man. It was all so confusing. He didn’t feel much like a Commander at this moment, more like a new naive recruit, desperately looking for guidance. ‘What happened to you?’ he heard himself ask.

Anders smiled a little sadly. ‘You have a moment or two?’ The smile obtained a small twinkle. ‘Don’t worry, time doesn’t count for much in this place. We’ll catch your dear Inquisitor in time.’

-

Evelyn was growing frustrated. She was supposed to lead this band of – how had Varric described the companions back in Kirkwall? She pursed her lips; she would be damned before she would ask the cheeky dwarf. Ah yes. Misfits. She exhaled relieved. The Band of Misfits. Come to think about it, apparently it had been Marian Hawke who had given that name to the unlikely group of at random collected people that for one reason or another had stuck together. By now she understood how the former Champion of Kirkwall must have felt on several occasions.

Silently she ticked off.

A tough, or at least acting tough, Qunari who felt so out of place he whined like a toddler; a Tevinter mage who more or less did the same, although he very hard tried to keep up appearances and thus disguised his whinging as sophisticated remarks; a Grey Warden who acted like he owned the place, simply because he figured that after the disaster his Commander had created nothing worse could happen; a dwarf who thought that bluffing himself through the hard situation would benefit everyone around him and refused to see he was a hairbreadth away from being strangled for his too optimistic comments. And one too stern elf who attempted so hard to keep himself in check, she was afraid he would crack at any moment.

She had to confess she understood Fenris the most. After she had come to the conclusion he was trying to save the love of his life, her opinion about him had took a whole different turn. Which didn’t make it easier. She tried not to sigh out loud.

Of course she appreciated they all did their best in their own way, their own somewhat strange and sometimes incomprehensible way but, nevertheless, it worked on her nerves. She felt ashamed at the same time. Was she so much better than them? No she wasn’t. She also was riddled with dread and anxiety and downright panic. And, like Fenris, near paralysed with fear about the fate that had befallen the one she loved. She simply hadn’t the luxury to show it. And, she mused, just that simple fact made her strong. Discarding the (till now) unshed tears, she determinedly straitened her shoulders. She was the Inquisitor, damn it. She could not falter. She had to lead on, and not only try to make the best of the rotten circumstances, but solve the godsdamned idiotic situation they found themselves in. _She_ had put them in.

It was not a simple task.

They had been wandering around this depressing place for ages. Or minutes, or hours – she stopped herself. Mocking the character of the environment was growing old. And again she couldn’t help another sigh escaping her mouth. She started when someone took her arm. She suppressed the sharp instinct to lash out and instead turned sharply to see it was Fenris, but his attention wasn’t on her. She followed his tense look and almost faltered.

A figure was standing not ten paces away, light and bright standing out against the dark rock behind her. She knew that figure. She had seen her portrait numerous times.

‘Divine Justinia,’ she whispered, in shock and in awe. She was glad, if not grateful, the elf held her arm, otherwise she would have keeled over.

‘Is she? Is she the Divine? Have you ever met her?’ Fenris pressed. She felt his fingers leaving blue stamps on her arm in his anxiety. And again she couldn’t blame him.

Evelyn blinked. She couldn’t believe her eyes and her mind was in doubt. ‘I don’t know,’ she murmured, ‘I must have ... at the Conclave ... I don’t remember ...’ There was one bright flash and then, to her frustration, her brain became once more clouded. Numb. She blinked again and leaned against Fenris’s body, feeling sapped and suddenly so tired. He caught her in her near fall. Without thinking.

 _She could have been Marian..._ The thought nearly passed his mind and made him swallow hard.

‘Perhaps you better try to remember.’ Stroud almost sounded aggressive. ‘It might be very important right now.’

No-one paid attention to his heated words.

The apparition, an elderly woman dressed in the robes of Most Holy, made a step forward. She spread her hands and smiled reassuringly. ‘I know you don’t remember me, and certainly not what has happened at the Conclave, but that is why I am here.’

Fenris looked into those unfathomable eyes and staggered back, still holding Evelyn’s weight. They both were flabbergasted.

- ****  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again sorry for another cliff-hanger... 
> 
> And many thanks to all of you who are following this story, thanks for reading! 
> 
> Special thanks for Ms_Saboteur, for your minute but persistent encouragements!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bearing in mind I left you with a cliff-hanger, a new chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Wintersend part 15

-

Cole had led Hawke and the spirit of Compassion, who he gently had taken by the arm to help her move adequately, if at all, to another part of the Fade where the pillars were as much a festering forest of ugly stalagmites as the place they had left behind. Anders hadn’t want to come with them, declaring he didn’t wish to hamper whatever they were planning, though Hawke had got the impression he hadn’t been very eager to accompany them to start with. Probably he was afraid that Cole got the sudden urge to possess him too. And after he had just got rid of Justice, Hawke could imagine that was a disturbing thought.

Cole, on his turn, didn’t seem too heartbroken with the mage’s decision, perhaps because he didn’t totally trust Anders. Hawke couldn’t really blame him. It made her frown. It wasn’t easy to stand in the middle. If anything, her position as Champion of Kirkwall had taught her that much.

‘I didn’t know you still had friends in the Fade, Cole,’ Hawke said awkwardly, watching how delicately he handled the spirit, as if she was made of fragile porcelain. In fact, she had no clue how to react to this, even for a mage, strange situation. She had never heard of, let alone witnessed, spirits or demons fraternizing. And yet Cole hovered around the other entity as a caring and concerned – companion, to say the least. For the sake of convenience she had always assumed demons approached each other with the same sneaky wit they did humans, at best with an arrogant if not hostile undertone. She wouldn’t be surprised they crashed horns together in a display of territorial instinct. And she had come to know spirits as classic examples of egotistical beings, happily floating and scurrying through the Fade, minding their own business like senseless butterflies. Then again, she had done her utter best to avoid both kinds of creatures, so she might be wrong. These were spirits of Compassion, after all, and there was nothing egotistical about compassion, was there?

‘I never met her when I was still a spirit in the Fade,’ Cole explained, ‘but I felt her crying out.’ He tilted his head and murmured in his usual incantation tone, ‘Pain and sadness, tears like shredded clouds, so much is lost, I must restore the broken memories but I am too weak, too weak...’ Here Cole looked up and he seemed somewhat at a loss. ‘I don´t exactly understand that part,´ he confessed. ´I always try people to let them forget their pain but she wants them to remember.’ He unfolded a self-confident smile. ‘But we both want to help,’ he stated with concrete unwavering conviction.

´It is important, she must remember,’ the other spirit whispered. She was leaning against Cole and looked even more haggard than the first time Hawke had seen her; the faint light she had emanated was gone and she was almost transparent now.

´Who has to remember what?’ Hawke asked anxiously, hoping with all her might it wasn’t her. She had enough disturbing memories to cope with, she didn’t need any hidden ones; in this case she wholeheartedly agreed with Cole.

‘The Lady that carries the Anchor,’ the spirit breathed.

‘She means the Inquisitor,’ Cole explained helpfully but Hawke already had taken the hint. The spirit touched her with trembling, near faltering fingertips and she felt a sensation like electricity wrapped in velvet tingling under her skin and surging through her veins. It spread to her head and changed into a comforting warmth and serenity that didn’t fit in this place. It gave her a sense of infinite peace. It was close to what Cole had let her undergo but at the same time entirely different. She closed her eyes and gave in. ‘What do you need me to do?’ Her voice seemed to come from far away.

-

‘Let me get this straight,’ Cullen said, trying to get his brain around the given information. ‘You came here to die?’ Thankfully his head had finally stopped pounding and his eyesight wasn’t blurred anymore but that didn’t mean his thoughts were yet as sharp and fast as they ought to be. And somewhere behind his slowly dissolving confusion lay a little particle of information that kept pulling at his consciousness. _Corypheus tried to fool the Grey Wardens by making them believe they were dying..._

‘Not to die as such,’ Anders replied carelessly. ‘I reserved the dying part for the Deep Roads, if I ever get the chance to reach them that is. No, I came here to get rid of Justice.’

‘Justice..?’ Cullen echoed nonplussed. And then it dawned on him. ‘You mean that spirit in your – mind or something?’

During all his years in Kirkwall he had never had an inkling about Anders’s strange, if not dangerous condition and neither had Meredith. Should that have been the case, he was quite certain the mage now standing before him would have ended up in the Gallows sooner than the Knight Commander could have uttered (screeched) the sentence “catch him.” Friend to the Champion or not. At that time that protection wouldn’t have counted, although he was curious to know what kind of fight said Champion would have put up to save her friend. She was and always had been very loyal.  It was Varric, who else, who had filled him in. It had given him a new and bright perspective about why the mage had blown up the Chantry. He could understand it better by now, although understanding and forgiveness were still miles apart.

‘More like a demon in the end,’ Anders mumbled reproachfully in the meantime. He slapped on a brittle smile while he continued, ‘But now he’s gone. Thankfully. Had I known about this opportunity earlier, I would have done it ages ago. But then again, nobody ever told me it was possible to come here in the flesh and I didn’t have the knowledge.’ Pensively he cocked his head. ‘I don’t think any mage has. Otherwise I would have come across the information in one tome or another. And the Maker knows I’ve read some quite obscure ones in my time.’

The two men were cautiously meandering along the pillars and outcrops that kept popping up around every corner, or rather in real were shaping those very rocky corners. They now and again waded through shallow pools of water they didn’t even want to know the consistence of. As long as the liquid didn’t dissolve their limbs they were grateful.

Anders was simply following the trail Hawke had left behind; not a visible trail as such, mind you. Just as before he could feel her existence calling out in his mind, as if she was filling the gap Justice had left behind. He was the first to admit it sounded rather eerie and he hoped fervently it had something to do with the way they had ended up in the Fade, that is awake and physically, and with them being mages with some kind of a connection already. Cullen tagged along without protest, if only because he was convinced that where Hawke was, he would find Evelyn hanging around. Or at least would find her in no time with the assistance of the Champion. Former Champion.

 _And Fenris will be there as well_ , Anders thought wearily. Which was the main reason he hadn’t come with Hawke, Cole and the spirit. The elf would without doubt tear him apart faster than _he_ could give the shortest of explanation for his presence in the Fade. Yes, he would die anyway but at this point he could at least decide how, and since he was a Grey Warden he would like to carry on the Warden tradition of perishing in the Deep Roads. As depressing as it might be. And so he had stayed behind and Cullen had accidentally stumbled into him. Or rather within a hair’s breadth almost had squashed him with his unexpected and clumsy fall into this unsavoury place.

He had been intrigued by Cole, the spirit that had chosen to become near human. The spirit that had travelled to the world of the living solely to help. Notwithstanding his many years of experience with one certain spirit, he understood little of Cole’s motives. They weren’t evil, that much he appreciated, but then again, neither had been Justice’s in the beginning. And look how that had turned out. Nevertheless, he wondered what would have happened if he not had Justice but Cole dragged around all that time. After all, they had influenced each other. To the devastating end. Would this spirit of compassion have become as hateful and unforgiving as the spirit of justice had? Would he also have made some kind of radical terrorist out of him or would he have given him the chance to attempt solving things more peacefully? Perhaps he would have succeeded in persuading him to give overwhelming lectures about tolerating each other. He grinned bleakly at that thought. Sadly he never would find the answer, since history had decided otherwise. He had to live, for as much time life would grant him, with the biggest mistake of his life.

And then Cullen placed the bombshell.

The Commander, who by now had fully regained his senses again, said out of the blue, ‘Hasn’t she told you? Hasn’t the Champion – hasn’t Hawke told you?’

His voice almost made Anders jump and it definitely pulled him out of his contemplations. ‘What? Has me told what?’

‘All the Grey Wardens have been hearing the Calling. For some reason or another it seems to be Corypheus’s doing.’ He heaved his hands to ward off the mage’s question marks showing up and crowding his face. ‘Don’t ask me how he did it. I only know he wants to build an unconquerable army and uses every means to fulfil that aspiration. And letting the Grey Wardens go insane by making them believe their time has come, was apparently an essential part of it. We found out he wanted to win over their mages.’

Anders stopped so abruptly Cullen bumped into him and almost lost his footing.

‘ _What_??’

His knees went wobbly and he sank down on a convenient piece of stone, helpfully around aplenty and probably waiting for a stunned mage to make use of them. He put a hand to his brow and flinched.

Was this a deception? Was he not dying after all? Was this just some cunning and malevolent play of a creature that at all costs was willing to win the world? At the cost of numerous lives? He flinched even more intensely. Hadn’t he done the same thing? He had tricked Hawke in doing his bidding. He had tricked all of his friends. He had chased them around the sewers and the lost mines to find the ingredients needed to fabricate the magical bomb he was aiming for. What was the difference? He screwed his eyes shut. _My intention,_ a very small voice defiantly mumbled in his mind. _My intention of making them see how mages are treated unjustly._ But he pursed his lips and disregarded that. He was far beyond that ideal right now. Not to say this was but only Justice’s persistent, near intolerable voice echoing in his mind.

Grimly he thought instead: the difference could perhaps be found in the impact on just Kirkwall or the whole of Thedas but in the end it was all the same. Devastation. Death. He crumbled and groaned.

‘I take it you didn’t know,’ sounded the sensible voice of the Commander. He was watching the mage closely but couldn’t find any forgery or pretence in the man’s’ behaviour. On the contrary. The man seemed to a near collapse at his words. It confused him.

Anders opened his eyes and tilted his head. His hands fell idly in his lap. ´I didn´t know.’ He looked pained. ´But then again, Grey Wardens are always alert for the Calling. And ready for it. It doesn´t change much. Dying in a ferocious last heroic fight is a thing of honour. Or so we’ve been told.’ He let out a slightly shivering sigh. ‘In the end we will all have to face the truth: Wardens never die of old age. In fact, we are always alert for the Calling though, of course, we’ll never be eager to hear it.’

He looked up at Cullen with a faint crooked smile. ‘Bear in mind, Commander, it wouldn’t have taken many years before it was my turn. And maybe the song of death that sounds in my mind is for real. Who can tell?’ He bit his lip and crunched his face. ‘On the other hand, dying for the ambitions of an old totally gone bonkers magister who seeks to become a god and doesn’t care if he drags the whole of Thedas to the ground in reaching his goal, is a whole different story. An unacceptable one. I don’t think that chapter will stand out gloriously in the history of the Grey Wardens. I’m afraid the heroic shine will swiftly wear off. And I certainly don’t want to oblige him.’

He rubbed his brow and mumbled tiredly, ‘And we were so certain we left him as a corpse in that creepy tower. He couldn’t get more dead.’ He slumped back, feeling drained.

Cullen regarded the man he had hated for the last four years. No, hatred was too strong a word. He had despised him which, on second thought, was perhaps even worse. But he could feel neither hate nor contempt for the mage now sitting at his feet. He had once pledged he would kill him on the spot, should he encounter him. But now he had the opportunity, he didn’t feel the urge. Anders radiated some strange mix of resignation and optimism he couldn’t place. There was a note of sadness in the man, of acceptance with his fate, and it stilled his hand. Involuntarily he wondered what he had gone through after his extreme deed.

‘Do you regret what you have done?’ he suddenly blurted.

Anders’s eyes narrowed and his look became intense. ‘I regret many things, Cullen, as do you, I suspect. But I know you´re referring at what happened that horrible night.' A corner of his mouth lifted in a mock smile. ´Yes. I regret it. I really do. It never should have happened and it wouldn´t have happened if I hadn´t taken pity on that spirit that suddenly found himself in a world he wasn´t able to understand.´ He snorted. ‘And never was _willing_ to understand. I should have known better than inviting him. It was a stupid act on my part but it was well meant. Which doesn´t clear me of my own responsibility.’ If possible his stare became even more intense. ´Why do you ask? You’re not going to offer me absolution, are you?’

Cullen let out a sardonic laugh. ‘I don’t think that is my place.’

Anders relaxed. ‘No, it isn’t and I’m glad you see that too. I am the only one who has that prerogative and I’m still working on it. And let me tell you, it’s damn hard to do so. To forgive and forget. To forgive myself and forget what I’ve done.’ He shook his head. ‘Of course that´s impossible, let alone I’m in a position to ask others to pardon me. I can only hope I will find some peace of mind before I will meet my death.’ He offered him another bleak smile. ‘I´ve always thought you were a stick-in-the-mud but as it turns out, you´re a person of flesh and blood. With a real operating heart. And you´re honest. I value that. With you, one knows what one gets and can expect. Unlike with some hypocritical Chantry Brother who piously preached forgiveness and instead wielded revenge as a flaming sword.’

Cullen laughed again and this time it sounded much more untroubled. Of course he knew whom Anders was referring at. ‘I completely agree. Sebastian has always stayed the arrogant spoiled princeling, used to having everything his way, no matter how hard Elthina tried to change him and, undoubtedly, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself.’ He paused for a few moments. ‘Did you know he invaded Kirkwall?’

Anders frowned. ‘No, but it doesn’t surprise me. His hostile words before he took off were clear enough. Like I said, he was always more full of revenge than forgiveness. In comparison my zealous unyielding spirit was a gentle, good intended, though somewhat overworked schoolteacher. Sebastian played the humble preacher but acted like an arrogant touchy High Lord. And all the time he was so very much convinced of his own righteousness, he almost tripped over it. A dangerous combination, if you ask me. And now? Is he the new ruler? If so, Kirkwall must be such a jolly place to live in.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Cullen grinned, ‘Guard Captain Aveline has everything under control. Actually, the Inquisition has lent a hand with chasing the aggressor out of the city.’

´Really?’ reacted Anders, taken aback. ‘That’s good. It’s nice to find out the Inquisition is not only about Mages and Templars but also about, er, justice.’ His face twitched as if he had bitten in an extremely sour lemon. ‘Sorry, the word still not agrees with me.’ Determinedly he stood up. ‘Well, Commander, this was a good chat but we have more pressing things at hand. I’ve roamed this place the last – whatever passes for time over here and I think I know where you can find the others. Including the Inquisitor.’ He thought it wiser not to mention his near unnatural hunch of where Hawke was. ‘I propose we soldier on so you can be reunited with your woman.’

In a reflex Cullen held out his hand and without thinking Anders accepted. ‘I can’t say I will ever forgive you for what you’ve done but I believe by now I’ve more insight on why you did it.’

Anders nodded. ‘That’s all I can ask for.’

-

Those eyes, there was something about those eyes. Something strange, something that made her thoughts flutter.

Evelyn was still staring in awe at the apparition standing before her. Her legs felt solid enough again to hold her weight, she didn´t need Fenris´s steady arm any longer to stay upright, now the first shock had abated. But that didn´t mean she could comprehend, or even believe, what her eyes forced to make her see. She had seen portraits of Most Holy, as every inhabitant of Thedas had – save for the Tevinters she presumed, (and perhaps the Qunari, come to think about it), so she recognized the woman in an instant. That was not the strangest part of the situation. Justinia’s unexpected and sudden manifestation even wasn’t. The strangest part was that she felt a sudden flash of remembrance. No, not felt. Saw. It was revealing and frightening at the same time. And those eyes seemed not to fit into the picture.

‘Was it you?’ she whispered.

A new spark uncovered another memory. Her desperately climbing up some steep slope, chased after by gruesome large spiders, Justinia stretching out her hand to haul her into safety and spurring her on to get help.

Without thinking she made a step back and didn’t notice everyone around her did the same. Except for Fenris.

White light exploded and, after it had mellowed, illustrated like moving pictures on a bright sheet scenes of what really had occurred at the Conclave, for everyone to witness this time.

 Most Holy held in chains by Grey Wardens, mocked by Corypheus himself. The orb Justinia swatted out of his hand and landed by accident at the door Evelyn at the same moment burst through and instinctively picked up. With all the consequences that ensued.

 _And the stupid thing is, I was late because I desperately needed to pee,_ Evelyn thought in an, even at this moment, calm corner of her brain _. Nature called and because of that I am now the Inquisitor. How crazy is that??!_

The light doused and with it the images faded but the impact lingered.

The first one to regain his voice was Stroud. He sounded gruffly when he said, ‘So it wasn’t Andraste who saved you.’

As stung by a wasp Evelyn turned and spat, ‘I never claimed so.’ She glared menacingly at him. ‘Perhaps you can be so good as to explain why it were _Grey Wardens_ who held the Divine? Are you trying to expose me as an imposter to steer us away from the fact that your organization apparently is responsible for all the mess?! How dare you!’

She stood on the verge of attacking him and only with the greatest exertion she could refrain herself. No-one would gain anything by a fight between them, she tried to tell herself fervently.

At that same moment Varric stepped forward and stayed her hand that already was balled into a fist. With wary eyes he had followed the scene and although he would happily deal the whack for her, he realised that knocking Stroud flat out could only make things worse. ‘Madam, don’t. I’d hate to write about how the Inquisitor manhandled a Grey Warden while standing knee-deep in Fade mud. How am I to maintain the dignity of the heroine while she’s strangling someone covered in demon muck?’

Evelyn deflated and let out a short chuckle. She found it impossible to stay angry and secretly wondered how often Varric had had to use his talent to calm Hawke down.

‘The Grey Wardens were under the influence of Corypheus,’ Stroud barked in the meantime, not listening to Varric’s words at all. ‘You can’t blame them!’

Before Varric or Evelyn could react, the Bull stepped forward and gave Stroud a stern prod. ‘I suggest you cut the crap,’ he growled. ‘We have to find a way out of here. Fighting amongst each other won’t help. Keep your shouting for when we’re back into safety!’

Stroud subsided, though reluctantly, and mostly because you couldn’t ignore a Qunari prodding his finger into your chest. The next you knew, it would have the same deadly outcome as the determined hand of a certain elf. ‘The last word about this hasn’t been said,’ he nevertheless threatened in a low voice.

‘About that we agree,’ Evelyn reacted, ‘but I also agree with Varric and Bull. This is not the time to argue.’

And then she turned back, quickly. Because there was another sudden eruption of near blinding light. Her breath hitched.

-

Fenris hadn’t given the disagreement any attention whatsoever. His look had been fixed upon whatever pretended to be the Divine Justinia. Just as Evelyn he had been captured by the eyes. Those sparkling sapphire eyes he knew all too well.  He almost petrified in shock by seeing the eyes of the woman he loved in the face of a woman he only vaguely recognized from some portraits he had hardly given a second glance when he had passed them on the few occasions he had visited the Chantry.

 _This can’t be true_.

And then the woman had started to speak and he almost recoiled. _This isn’t her voice_. But that was not entirely true, he realised not moments later. An echo of Marian’s voice resonated in the words that entered his ears. He was so engrossed in trying to find some similarities he never heard what precisely the voice said; he only had been focused on how he could hear Marian’s essence weaving through the sound waves.

And then, with a flash, the apparition seemed to explode and change into a halo of light. A faint voice was heard, _I’ve done my part. Thank you._ As before, the light dimmed but not to give back lost memories; this time it was a lost woman.

Marian gasped and staggered fiercely. She took a stumbling step and collapsed. The elf reacted fast as lightning and rushed forward to catch her before she hit the ground.

‘Fenris,’ she murmured with a feeble sigh, ‘thank the Maker you’re here.’ She hung lamely in his arms.

‘Marian,’ the elf rasped emotionally. In fact, he was so brimful of emotions it threatened to choke him.  His feelings swayed violently between immense relief, total confusion and even anger. They seemed to form a tangled knot in his throat he couldn’t untie. He could hardly believe he was really holding her and he pulled her even closer, almost crushing her. Hawke squeaked a feeble protest. ‘I knew it was you,’ Fenris croaked, ‘I recognized your eyes.’

‘Take care, elf,’ Varric warned, witty as always, even in the midst of shock and confusion. ‘You’ll break some bones if you keep squeezing her like that.’

‘Don’t listen to him, just keep squeezing,’ Hawke mumbled; on second thought his arms couldn’t hold her fast enough, even though she was by now struggling for breath.

Fenris buried his face in her hair and vented the reason for the anger that was a part of the suffocating knot. ‘Why did you run away? Again?’

At that Hawke tried to free herself but Fenris refused to let go and after a half-hearted attempt she gave up. ‘I didn’t run away,’ she wheezed against his chest, ‘the Dragon Lady sent me here.’ She took a trembling breath. ‘And then I met Cole and a fellow-spirit of his. And she said, she said she had to restore the memories but she was too weak to do it on her own.’ She whimpered helplessly. ‘She needed my body. No, eh, what was it again, not body.’ Hawke inhaled shivering. ‘Ah yes, my life energy. She needed my life energy to bring the message home.’ She chortled mirthlessly. ‘What an ugly truth it exposed, eh?’ Exhausted she leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘Oh Maker, she drained me.’ She was too worn out to weep.

Fenris didn’t understand half of what she was saying but it could wait. She stated she hadn’t fled this time and he believed her; for now that was enough. He swept her up in his arms and carried her to a boulder where he sat down, cradling her in his lap. ‘It’s alright,’ he mumbled. He smiled briefly and she felt the twisting of his lips against her cheek. ‘I cannot promise you’re out of danger but at least we’re together. That’s all that counts for now. Save further explanations for when you feel up to it.’ His mouth softly grazed her skin in a tender kiss and with a small sniff she sank deeper into his embrace.

Slowly Evelyn came to herself. It wasn’t easy. She laid her hand upon Varric’s shoulder to get some kind of foothold to reality. For when it came down to reality, there was nothing like a dwarf to provide it. They not only had no magic and no access to the Fade but, perhaps even more important, well, you couldn’t find something more realistic than stones. And ancestors of course.

‘My head is reeling and I’m totally confused,’ she mumbled, trying to give words to her feelings. ‘I’m in dire need for some, some certainty. Did _you_ know it was her?’

The dwarf shook his head. ‘Nope. Then again, I’m not surprised Fenris did.’

 _Neither am I_ , she thought. And with a harsh pang the image of her lover’s panicked face while she dived into the rift sprang to mind. _I need him,_ she thought desperately, _I need his support so badly. And I don’t even know if he’s still alive._ Angrily she pushed back hot tears.

Cullen chose that very moment to enter the stage.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I consider this a mild cliff-hanger (clears throat). Sorry.
> 
> Thanks for reading. And thanks for all the kudos!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize beforehand for any mistakes, but we’re suffering under an exceptionally vicious heat wave in the Netherlands (we’re talking about close to forty degrees centigrade) and we, poor Dutchmen, are not used to this kind of temperatures. We're melting, sloooowly melting.  
> I’m hardly able to think, let alone write...
> 
> Enjoy anyway..!

Wintersend part 16

-

He drifted aimlessly along the place, completely bewildered. He didn’t recognise this part of the Fade, it felt hostile and unforgiving. This realm seemed to be created for one sole purpose: to get hold of human minds by terrifying them into submission. He might be a spirit, but he had shared a human brain long enough to understand that much. And also long enough to know with solid certainty those pathetic gullible creatures would fall for it. He had noticed their arrival and wondered what to do. Should he warn them? He sneered disdainfully. As if that would make any difference. They wouldn’t listen anyhow and even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to beat off the attack.

Justice rounded another corner and halted; he hated to admit it but he had no idea where he was heading. He had been away from the Fade for too long to see it any longer as his natural habitat and besides, he could never call this domain of nightmares his home. The Fade he knew was perhaps confusing, at least for the feeble humans, but not intimidating. And certainly not threatening.

Would he have had breath to his disposal, he would have heaved a whole-hearted sigh; he was completely clueless about what to do next. It was a harsh truth to face but he couldn’t get away from it: he had lost the purpose of his existence. He never had been adequately able to get a grasp on the flow of time outside the Fade, but nevertheless he was certain he had spent quite an amount of it convincing Anders to at last take drastic measurements against the oppression of mages. _That_ had been his purpose, back there. He had clung onto it and now he had lost it. Nothing but emptiness stared at him, as a black hole that couldn’t be filled. With all his might he tried to stay calm. He was a Spirit. What evil could possibly befall him? Other spirits wouldn’t harm him and he knew more than one way to deal with demons. They didn’t scare him. What _did_ scare him, was this sudden ... Void

He had been exalted when they had finally carried out their plan, so exalted he had at first missed the sudden wave of panic and guilt that had stormed Anders’s mind and flooded his rock-hard confidence in the mission. He had understood little of the mage’s whining that had followed, about the many casualties and the loss of his friends. Had he really believed you could start a revolution without causing victims? And as far as he could see it, he had lost his so-called friends way before already, and besides, they hadn’t been very cooperative. Rather the opposite. To haul him out of his stupor, Justice had relentlessly urged him on to continue their work. The mage rebellion in Kirkwall had only been the start; there was much more to do. Anders’s state of mind hadn’t improved when they found out their actions hadn’t, in fact, been the beginning of the occurrences in Thedas, but in the end Justice had succeeded in rekindling at least a spark of grim enthusiasm.

And then everything had come to a crashing halt when the vile song of the Calling had begun. He had been as upset and unnerved as Anders, and in his confusion he had agreed to return to the Fade in an attempt to get separated because, as Anders had pointed out, roaming about the world, or worse, the Deep Roads, on his own would be no option.

And now here he was, alone and bewildered and wondering what to do. He had been a spirit of Justice once, before vengeance had shouldered its way in, and he desperately tried to remember what that implied again. Slowly he felt some of his old determination return and he straightened his shoulders, as a matter of speaking. In a realm like this there had to be injustice to fight. He only had to find it.

-

Cautiously Anders withdrew deeper into the shadows lingering between the rough hewn pillars. The cheeriness he had bravely emanated vanished from his face. He felt extremely tired and – empty. And that was not only due to the sudden absence of Justice. He clenched one hand vigorously into a fist. No, it was not emptiness that threatened to overwhelm him; he simply was at a loss. Now more than ever he regretted the impulse, so many years ago, of inviting the spirit into his body. Yes, he had taken pity on Justice but that had not been the only motive; he had also been driven by curiosity about what would happen. Lightening the bad situation of the mages hadn’t played any part whatsoever in his decision back then. Justice’s incessant prodding had at first just kindled annoyance but with his persistent and incisive questions, which had come in an endless stream, he had finally managed to breach the hard shell of Anders’s indifference and reached his conscience; slowly but surely he had opened his eyes for the injustice mages suffered. With everything it had led to.

Was it fair to state he had paid a high price for his inquisitiveness? He let out a pained sigh. It would probably be easy and even cheap to say he had, but he couldn’t help wondering what kind of man he would have been without that blasted spirit. He had once told Hawke they had influenced each other but now he was freed of Justice’s occupation, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Oh yes, of course he had been angry about how mages were treated, how they were locked away like dangerous bloodthirsty criminals, but that anger, or perhaps better irritation, had not played a very significant part in his thoughts and actions. To be honest, in those days he had very much enjoyed breaking out of the Tower and being chased by furious Templars. It had been his favourite pastime, next to getting the Templars nervous and putting them on edge by spreading the most ridiculous and outlandish rumours when they had dragged him back into imprisonment.

It had been Justice who had ignited that urge of doing something about the unfairness and bigotry mages faced every day. Doing something about had changed into fighting against and that had slowly but inevitably evolved in feelings of revenge. Undoubtedly by then, they indeed had started to influence each other, if only to outwit one another. In a rather juvenile way, really. It had resulted in a vicious circle of blame, hate and vengeance that turned out to be lethal in the end. One thing was indisputable; if he hadn’t been so stupid as to play the host to the spirit, he would never have got it into his head to blow up the Chantry.

He leaned heavily against a piece of rock and rubbed his brow.

Bumping into Hawke had been harder than he had anticipated. Perhaps it would have been wiser not to seek her out after he had sensed her presence. For years he had been convinced his feelings for her had drowned in the ones of hatred and his feverish efforts to put an end to the power of Meredith and her army of despicable Templars. Although he had to confess jealousy had reared its ugly head every time he had seen her together with Fenris. If possible, he had despised the elf even more than the Templars, but he knew damn well envy had been the reason for that, no matter how hard he had tried to convince himself he was concerned the elf was a bad influence. Who had he been fooling.

One look upon her had made clear he still loved her. Justice had done his utter best to steer him away from what he called “a dangerous distraction” and even had gone as far as to diminish his feelings by disparaging them as typical foolish human behaviour. But now he had kicked the spirit out of his existence, Anders became painfully aware his love hadn’t dwindled. If possible, it had only increased or, at any rate, had stayed as burning as it had started and for a long time had been. He had felt his stomach forcefully tighten while he witnessed how devotedly Fenris had worried about Hawke when she had nearly collapsed. With a touch of shame he remembered how he had accused the elf of not being capable of love. How he had been proved wrong! And yet he couldn’t help wondering if he had made a chance with her if Justice hadn’t stood in the way. He grimaced; that was speculation in its pure form. Totally futile. Without Justice he had never met Marian Hawke. Without Justice he had never ended up in Kirkwall.

He shook his head to get rid of his contemplations; they were useless anyway. He couldn’t change history. And history could only hurt him.

At this point he hesitated what to do. Just as Fenris, he hadn’t been surprised to find out the Divine had, in fact, been Hawke in some kind of magical disguise. Just as the elf, he had recognized her eyes. What _had_ shocked him was the unspeakable crime the Grey Wardens apparently had committed. It had even been worse than Cullen already had anticipated. He had shied away from the Order, fled from it, but still felt connected to it in some deranged way. The Hero of Ferelden had sworn him in, she had saved his life by doing so. And though he had abandoned the Order, there was still some kind of connection. If only through the Darkspawn taint. He snorted at the irony. And over the years he had learned to understand their predicament and even more their drive.

Why had they done it? Had it something to do with the Calling they all seemed to be hearing, as Cullen had claimed? Whatever the case, it was obvious Corypheus was behind it all. He was still trying to digest the information both Hawke and Cullen had fed him. Could it really be possible the dark song that had suddenly chimed in his head and pulled at his blood was false? If so, what was he supposed to do about it? As long as he was trapped in the Fade, he could do nothing at all, but the moment he would step out into the open, he would be arrested and executed. He had no illusions about that, no matter how lenient Cullen had presented himself. The Commander had, without doubt, been dazzled by his reluctant fall into the Fade and, besides that, he wasn’t the only one to decide about his fate. So, if he chose to undertake anything at all, he had to move like a shadow in the dark.

But no matter what, one way or another he had to get out of here and as far as he saw it, he had two options. He could follow the Inquisitor and her group as stealthily as he could – showing himself was out of the question. Things were already as complicated as they could get and, to be honest, he feared a confrontation with Fenris. Or he could try to locate Cole. The spirit had found a way in, he must know how to escape this – literally - Maker forsaken place. But he had to choose fast. Time, as a matter of speaking, was running out.

-

Deep in thought Solas ambled along what was left of the Temple of Ashes, now and again irritably kicking at a piece of debris, scattered around aplenty. The roof was mostly gone after the devastating explosion and the breach cast an unnatural sickly green light, drowning the bright illumination of the moon and the stars. He was still simmering inside but he kept the anger in check. Back in Haven he had almost killed Evelyn Trevelyan on a whim when she was in his care after the blast, but he had stayed his hand. It would have been so easy to smother her but reluctantly he had recognized he needed her and, more importantly, it wasn’t her fault things had gone awfully awry. His fury had been, and still was, aimed at himself, at his own failure,  although he still wondered if, and how much – _she_ had been involved. Because _she_ had a nasty tendency to look right through him and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had thwarted his plan, one way or another. She was _still_ busy meddling.

It wasn’t the first time he returned here; like a criminal he got driven back to the crime scene. Numerous times he had wandered here, thinking, mulling over how to put things right, how to regain the control over the gone wild situation. And finding no satisfying answer. He heard a soft rumour behind his back and turned, to see her descending the stairs leading to the balcony that miraculously had stayed intact.

 _Dragon Lady_.

Solas made a scornful sound at the back of his throat. He knew she was very pleased with that nickname which she regarded a fancy title.

‘Funny to find you here,’ she said carelessly. Seemingly carelessly. ‘Shouldn’t you be in the Fade? I’d have figured you’d want to keep an eye on what happens there.’

‘You mean to closely watch the mess you’ve concocted,’ Solas hissed menacingly.

Flemeth threw her head back and laughed. ‘Such resentment!’

The elf took a threatening step forward. ‘Why did you do it? Why did you send them into that place?’ He took another step. ‘Are you acting on behalf of Corypheus?’

Flemeth laughed again, a low rolling sound. ‘You dare to accuse me of collaborating with that dangerous madman? Quite the nerve, considering what you’ve done!’

Solas gritted his teeth. She was right, of course, but that didn’t mean he would let her get away with it so easily. ‘And you jeopardised everything by luring them into the Nightmare’s domain,’ he snarled.

She leisurely rested a hand upon her hip and answered his furious look with an amused one. ‘Do you really think I have that much power?’

‘I wouldn’t put it past you.’

A sudden cold draught whooshed through the empty space, bringing with it remains of gathered snow lying on the half ruined pinnacles. It battered his shaven head but he didn’t react. He kept on holding her in his unwavering glare. She stared unperturbed back.

‘You gave the orb to Corypheus. Did you really think you could gain back the world for the People by doing that? You chose the most unlikely and most unreliable intermediary by doing so. You must have known he would go further than you wanted. You were in no shape to keep him leashed. You must have realised he wasn’t interested in the world but wanted to conquer the Dark City and saw the Orb only as a means to reach his goal.’ She hit his sore point and she knew it. The ripple that interrupted his stoic demeanour was short and hardly discernable but she had sensed it. Harshly she went on, ‘He would have destroyed this world, humans, dwarfs and the People alike. You knew that, but nevertheless you took the risk. And you’re accusing me of meddling?!’

Solas still didn’t react.

‘I had no other option than to interfere. You want to talk about a mess? In that case you better consider the one you caused yourself!’

Now he reacted but she had foreseen it and caught his hand easily.

‘I made you to what you are now,’ he spat, ‘I can kick you down to where you came from.’

This time her laugh sounded dangerously sardonic. ‘You forget I’m not the woman you turned into a goddess. That woman is long gone. That woman put her trust into me – and for good reasons too, since the reason stands before me right at this very moment – and the instant she expired, her essence went over to me. I carry her inside me but I’m not her.’ She gazed into his eyes and he got the feeling he was staring into centuries long forgotten. ‘I keep a piece of her but I am still me. Don’t pretend you didn’t know that; I am the only one you didn’t succeed in locking away.’ She chortled softly and never before a chortle had sounded so full of premonition and warning. ´And never, _ever_ underestimate our combined strength.´

He wouldn´t dream of it.

´You planned it all,’ he said flatly.

Now she not only laughed but merely burst into it. ´Oh my dear Fen’Harel!’ she said in the mildly irritated and mocking tone a mother would use to chastise a foolish young child. ‘Yes, you should be very wary of what I can do, but just like you, I too have little to none influence on the caprices of Fate. Just like you I cannot beat Corypheus on my own. And I certainly can’t turn back time to prevent you from your silly deed that endangered us all.’ She let go of his hand and he let it fall along his thigh.

He hated it when she performed the act of the sensible wise woman but, near stabbing her to death, there was nothing he could do about it. And the worst part was, she was right. He really wanted to wipe that smug smile off her face.

After a short pause Flemeth continued, ‘Sending the Champion of Kirkwall into the Fade was indeed my doing. It was necessary she’d overcome her fears and then teach the others how to accomplish that. Because, as you are no doubt well aware of, Corypheus is building his godhood on terror and nightmares. Take that away, his most important pillar collapses and it will be much easier to beat him. However,’ she let out a tortured sigh, ‘it was never my intent, nor did I foresee, let alone accomplish, the Inquisitor and her retinue would follow her.’ A shadow clouded her expression. ‘That has complicated matters. On the other hand, both she and Marian Hawke are formidable women and I’m convinced they will find a safe way out.’ To his astonishment she shot him a smile that could almost be described as affectionate. ‘Scheming and interfering can only go that far, Dread Wolf, and if you’re not careful, it will turn and bite you in the back, as you have learned the hard way.’ She nodded at him. ‘I’m sure we will meet again. I wish you well, my friend, stay safe.’

Pensively Solas stared after her. He mused she was some kind of relic from the Old Days, the only one, actually, of the Old Ones he still could speak to. Whether she was mostly the infamous Witch of the Wilds or the incarnation of Mythal, it didn’t matter. He was willing to believe the last. He was willing to believe Mythal had given her essence to the old woman, the Dragon Lady. Whatever the case, she made him feel a little less alone. And although they had their differences and disagreements, many in fact, he was very fond of her. Thus it would pain him to kill her but he was afraid it was inevitable. He had to reach his goal at all costs.

He watched her climbing the stairs to the balcony and shortly after he heard the heavy cracking of dragon wings getting airborne.

-

Evelyn stood agape and she was completely at a loss for words. Her mouth opened and closed a few times but no sound would come out.

Varric, on the other hand, was quite boisterous. ‘Well well well, look what the cat dragged in,’ he said with such a broad smile it almost split his face in two. He looked Cullen up and down and added, ‘The cat hasn’t been very gentle with you, has it. It appears sooner like it tried to disembowel you, to be honest.’

Cullen didn’t answer. With two long strides he reached Evelyn and pulled her into a tight embrace. ‘You’re alive,’ he croaked, ‘you’re really alive. I was so scared something dreadful had happened to you.’

Finally Evelyn found her voice back. ‘I could say the same,’ she said with a sob. ‘I thought you jumped. I _saw_ you jump! I was sure you were lying somewhere ... somewhere...’ The newly found voice broke.

‘I did jump,’ Cullen murmured in her hair, ‘but evidently I survived.’ He had never felt more relieved in his entire life. Anders had told him his lover was whole and well and he had believed it, he had _wanted_ to believe it. But only now that he held her beloved body close to his and took in the living warmth of her presence, he was really convinced. He thought his heart would burst.

Weakly Evelyn pummelled his chest with one fist. ‘Why?! Why did you do that?! You could have died. You idiot!’

Cullen couldn’t help laughing. ‘I’m aware of that. But so could you have.’ He screwed his eyes shut and took in her lovely scent with a large hungrily inhale of breath. After that he let out a shivering sigh. ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

Evelyn surrendered and sagged against his body. ‘I suppose it’s utterly selfish, but I’m glad you’re here.’ She heaved her head and gave him a wavering smile. ‘If we will perish here, at least we’ll perish together.’

‘That’s one positive thought to cling on to,’ Cullen chuckled and he kissed her tenderly.

In the meantime Hawke had decided her breakdown had lasted long enough, and she had succeeded in winning back some of her right mind. She freed herself from Fenris’s arms and scrambled onto her feet, still leaning on the elf’s shoulder because she didn’t yet trust the strength of her legs. She took a deep breath and brought about a frail smile. ‘It seems not all is bad at the other side of sanity,’ she mumbled.

Dorian let his eyes wander from one couple to the other. ‘Two happy reunions for the price of one,’ he drily observed. ‘If we’re not careful, this dreary enterprise will turn into a romantic adventure. With an exquisite champagne picnic to boot.’ He flashed a sardonic grimace. ‘Frankly, I don’t know whether to puke or applaud.’

‘Yeah,’ the Iron Bull grumbled a comment, ‘just add a cask of good sack-mead to that bubble wine of yours and this crappy business will get a shiny silver lining. It’s a bit – alarming.’ He slapped the mage on the back in an eruption of camaraderie. ‘We can always form a couple, you and me, if it makes you less envious.’

Dorian raised one brow in a delicate way. ‘Are you suggesting a liaison, Bull? My word, I thought you’d never ask.’

‘Should I start thinking about a wedding present?’ Varric informed with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, ‘Tsk Dorian, what would the old man say? Canoodling with a Qunari!’

Dorian’s firm, near rebellious expression told all about how he would marry the Bull on the spot just to annoy his father.

‘He would probably begin with soiling his trousers and after that work his way up to several bouts of hysterics. I assume the furnishings and even the premises itself would suffer hugely under his unleashed wrath. And of course he would state, roaring, mind you, that this was the indisputable proof of my irrevocable insanity.’ He smiled nastily. ‘I’d pay a fortune to see it.’

‘Ha!’ rumbled Bull. ‘Sounds like something to behold. How about the two of us go tell him the good news?’

‘What a brilliant idea!’ Dorian exclaimed. ‘We could bring him a box of chocolates. He detests confectionery.’

Varric frowned, somewhat confused. ‘And here I was, thinking you had a good chat with your father.’

‘A chat, yes,’ Dorian said grimly. ‘No-one ever mentioned it was a good one.’

In the meantime Stroud was getting more aggravated by the minute. ‘Can you stop the cuddling and all the other bullshit and get back to what’s really important,’ he snarled. He was still struggling with the images of Grey Wardens holding Most Holy, clearly under the powerful control of Corypheus. He had stated determinedly the Order was under the influence of Corypheus and thus not responsible, but deep in his heart he was ashamed and felt utterly desperate. And in his impotent fury he thoughtlessly lashed out.

Evelyn looked sharply up but before she could take action, Varric stepped forward and laid a soothing hand on the Warden’s arm. ‘Easy there, Whiskers,’ he said, ‘the situation calls for a prudent approach, what with several people in a brittle state of mind.’ He smiled captivatingly. ‘Including you. We shouldn’t encourage infighting, should we now.’

Stroud bristled but Hawke beat him at giving a response. She straightened her back. ‘No,’ she said, ‘he’s right. We cannot linger here, not in the least because there’s more.’

‘More?’ reacted Evelyn, distressed. ‘What do you mean “more”? This wasn’t enough anxiety already? I myself have had enough for one, eh, day.’ She had untangled herself from Cullen’s embrace and her undivided attention was now on Kirkwall’s former Champion.

Hawke pursed her lips. ‘I wasn’t sent here to play the Divine. That part surprised me as much as it did you, I take it.’ Fenris also had got up and rested a hand on the small of her back. She was grateful for the seemingly simple gesture; without speaking a word he made clear he would support her, come what may and at any cost. She drew strength from the gentle pressure of his fingertips. She swallowed her nervousness away and went on, ‘It was Flemeth who whisked me away from Skyhold and dumped me here.’

‘Flemeth!’ Varric cried out incredulously. ‘Don’t tell me you mean the lady with the amazing dragon trick?’

Hawke felt the pressure of Fenris’s fingers intensify but he stayed quiet. ‘That’s exactly the one I mean,’ she said. ‘She stated I had to be your teacher. To teach you how to overcome your darkest fears.’ She smiled apologetically while she looked up. ‘I had no idea what she meant and even now I’m not quite sure; but what I _do_ know, is that Corypheus is trying to knock us all over by capturing us in a cage of horror. And that horror will be your own doing. He will play on your deepest regrets of shortcomings and downright failures. And on your fears. And the worst part is, you will be convinced he is right. And believe me, it will bring you down and drive you crazy. I speak from experience. You have to fight it. I absolutely can’t fathom how Flemeth knew we would end up here together, but then again, she is a very powerful – whatever she is.’

And suddenly she got the insight that the Dragon Lady could have meant her own experience with fear and almost insanity; to use that to warn the others. She knew all about Corypheus’s vile means, after all. Letting her run the gauntlet through the Fade could have strengthened her. Had she known about Cole? Varric interrupted her musing.

‘No need to dwell on the craziness, Hawke,’ the dwarf said, thoughtfully. ‘I believe you on your word; after all, I saw firsthand what it did to you.’ He frowned and snorted, ‘And to think I made the mistake of assuming you were acting like a pent up hormone-riddled female because –‘ Just in time he refrained from blurting out “you were afraid it would be getting too late to become a mother” since, of course, that was quite delicate and intimate information and there were lots of unauthorised ears listening.

Marian lifted a corner of her mouth in an almost smile. ‘Indeed. I hate hormones.’ She became serious again immediately after. ‘Don’t make the fault of misjudging the force of Corypheus’s manipulation.’

‘Then we must be extremely cautious,’ Evelyn said determined. She shook her head. ‘And I thought ending up here and figuring out how to escape was the worst of our problems.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Hawke grimaced.

At that moment a rumble started, a vibrating boom that seemed to fill up all the space and left no room for other sounds, not even for the whispering ones swirling around in the privacy of one’s own head.

‘Ah, I see we have visitors.’

And the voice Hawke knew too well to her liking began to pour out its poison.

‘And there we have it,’ she said with a deep sigh. ‘Brace yourselves.’

-

Anders found Cole sitting cross-legged next to the other spirit of Compassion. She was lying motionless, with her head in his lap. He was tenderly holding her hand. ‘I named her Hope,’ he said quietly. ‘I thought the name suited her. When I was still a spirit, I always tried to make people forget about their tears and pain. _She_ tried to let them see not all is lost. That there is always some way out. She strived for offering solutions, not just forgetting.’ His fingers tenderly trailed down her face. ‘I’m beginning to think she was right.’

Without a word Anders sat down. He didn’t want to disturb Cole in his grief, because it was painfully clear his Hope had stopped to exist. Without doubt she had extinguished in some way after making use of Hawke’s body. She had been fragile to start with and undoubtedly that last act had been too much. Did spirits die like humans, he wondered, or did they simply melt into the Fade?

As if he had read his thoughts, Cole answered, ‘No, she didn’t die like that. She was a spirit, not a mortal being. She will come to life again but will never be the same. I don’t think she will remember me.’

Anders couldn’t see his face, since he was bended over the still body and it was covered by his bangs and the rim of his large hat. But he could hear his voice was full of sorrow. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured.

Now Cole looked up and the smile he gave him was so melancholic and at the same time radiated such warmth, he almost staggered back. It brought a lump in his throat he only with great effort swallowed down.

‘Don’t be,’ the strange boy said softly, ‘what she did was following her own wish. She served a good purpose. She knew that. She – died – in peace.’

And then a voice shredded the stillness of the Fade. It sounded so malevolent that they both flinched.

‘The Nightmare is here,’ Cole whispered, his expression tense and fearful. ‘This is his domain and he is awakened. We must be very careful now. He will hurt.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Fenris and memories... Not a pretty combination...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning in advance: there are some angsty scenes in the first part of this chapter.
> 
> And I apologize for all the Italic. Personally I find it a bit irritating to read but after ample contemplation I decided it served its purpose.
> 
> However: enjoy!

Wintersend part 17

-

Hawke had closed her eyes in a rather childish way – she would be the first to acknowledge it – to ward off the voice that had pestered her for such a long time. Instinctively she wanted to crawl into a secret corner and hide under a protective cover. Instead she forced herself to bring back the feeling of Cole’s comforting fingers that gently stroked away the pain and let her discover the vile lies that hid behind the hurtful words. And so she found out a heartbeat too late Fenris had staggered back violently and had fallen defencelessly on his knees, his whole body twisted in agony. And she realised in that fraction the voice not only confronted with old hurt and failures but also brought back memories, preferably in ugly perverse ways. Twisted and deformed, changed into horrible unreal images, just to let one’s mind succumb to insanity and defenceless terror. _Fenris and memories..._ She cursed herself. She should have seen this coming.

_It was a hot day, even for Seheron standards, and humidity hung thick in the air. He remembered that his hair, black as the wings of ravens, was sticky with sweat. He remembered little moist beads gathering at the back of his neck and dripping down his temples. He remembered the beach, the grains of sand almost burning the soles of his bare feet, the waves softly rolling and murmuring, the gulls screaming overhead, lured by the promise of easy bounty. He remembered how he and his father were having difficulties with hauling the fishnet that was heavy with a particularly large amount of fish, off the deck of the boat. And how his younger sister came crying with joy skipping over the beach to admire their catch, her flaming red hair almost ablaze in the sunlight. She was followed by their mother, her face one big loving smile. They weren’t rich but they were free and happy in their little cabin at the coast. He was twelve years old and life was good._

The memories were so brilliant... And yet...

_And yet ... and yet something dark and ominous lurked at the horizon. And he realised what it was._

And he realised what it was. He gasped and lurked but couldn’t get away from its danger.

Someone was violently shaking his shoulders. And from far away a voice urgently pleaded, ‘Fenris! Come back! It isn’t real! Don’t believe it!’

But he was locked in the steel grip of fear; his heart froze in his chest and he couldn’t breathe.

_The portentous sound of marching feet came swiftly near. When he looked up he saw a small contingent of about twenty soldiers advancing – he corrected himself. Of course they weren’t soldiers. They were guards, heavily armed and armoured guards, well paid to protect a magister of grand standing._

He winced in horrified anticipation because he knew what would follow.

 _A richly decorated sedan chair was lowered and two slaves spread a blanket on the sand. The heavy brocade curtains opened and out_ he _climbed._

_The sky darkened as if threatening thunderclouds swallowed the sun and a cold breeze swept over the beach, turning the little beads of sweat into icicles. An involuntary shiver crept down his spine. Just like he, his father stood nailed to the ground but his mother stepped forward and made a deep respectful bow. ‘Master Danarius,’ she said, ‘you honour us with your presence.’_

_‘You had an offer for me,’ the magister replied coolly._

_‘He stands over there, you will find him very useful.’ His mother pointed at him. The loving smile was gone and instead her expression had become hard as granite. He was so shocked he couldn’t utter a word. And then the calculating eyes of Danarius were all over him. ‘He is a pretty boy,’ he said, his voice dripping with greed, ‘I’ll take him.’_

_His father roared back to life. ‘No!’ he yelled, ‘you cannot have him!’_

_At a simple nod of Danarius, one of the guards stepped forward and drew his sword. The blade made a sweeping arc through the air and with one powerful slash separated his father’s head from his torso. Blood spurted like a grizzly fountain from his neck and hot drops splashed like red rain over his son. For one bizarre moment the decapitated body kept standing, then it keeled slowly over._

He gasped. How could he have ever forgotten about this?! It surely must have been too powerful to even get wiped away by the ritual?

_Danarius flashed a cruel smile and turned to his mother. He snapped his fingers and a slave hurried forward with a small bag. ‘You will find the payment most satisfying,’ the magister said. ‘Come, pretty boy, you’re my property now.’_

_Before he could react, the guard who had murdered his father tethered him with iron manacles attached to a chain. He dragged him along and fastened the other end of the chain to the sedan chair. ‘Be careful,’ Danarius warned while he climbed back into his vehicle, ‘don’t damage my new possession, he is too valuable. I paid good money for him.’_

_Stunned with appalled disbelief he looked over his shoulder when they set off. His mother already walked back to their house without another look. His sister stood staring after him with wide open eyes. She parted her lips but no sound came, silently her mouth formed his name. Leto._

Like an enemy army all his lost memories at once stormed his mind, battering down the walls, destroying what rested of his meagre defences, overwhelming him. His memories might have been painfully detailed at the start, now they became more and more incoherent.

_The whiplashes, the beatings, the starving, all the humiliation and harsh punishments to break his spirit and make him into an obedient slave, the brutal treatment of his fellow slaves ... the sexual abuses ..._

A low feral howl started at the back of his throat and worked its way up to a tormented eardrum-shattering scream until his whole existence was filled with unbearable agony, but the images and sounds refused to go away. He clawed at his head as if he wanted to tear the memories out but with cruel doggedness they persevered.

Someone slapped him hard across the face. ‘Snap out of it!’

He hardly noticed and had he wanted to, he couldn’t react to it; he was caught in a cage and he kept on screaming when the horror grew only worse. He wasn’t aware his lyrium scars flew alight to blinding point. He distantly perceived the blaze, but never realised he was the source. Like a fall of sharp cutting stones the memories kept coming.

-

Anders stumbled over his feet when the wave of evil sound washed over him. But before it could get a hold on him, the words got overruled and chased away by a piercing blood curdling scream that threatened to rip apart the very fabric of the Fade itself. ‘What the hell?’ he panted and then recognition hit home. ‘Fenris?!’

Without further thinking he started running. Despite the sizzling rows the two of them had had in the past and the risk of getting killed on the spot, he couldn’t let this expression of unbearable mind crushing suffering go on. The essence of the healer kicked in, that part of him that against all odds hadn’t been smothered by all the occurrences of the past four years, loudly let itself heard.

The next moment he got taken over by a former spirit with even more haste than he.

Cole was running as if all the demons of the Fade were on his tail and made very clear time was pressing. And Time might bend in strange curves down or up here and even spiral around herself, right now the laws of the living world applied and they commanded there was no time to lose.

-

_The inner courtyard of Danarius’s country estate in Seheron, baking in the blistering sun. He, somehow still standing, the last one standing, covered in sweat and dust and blood. Blood also dripping from his sword. At his feet the only friend he ever made in the magister’s household. Dead. He stared at the butchered body, stared into the lifeless eyes as if he just woke up from a haze. From an irrational dream. From something that couldn’t have happened. That shouldn’t have happened. Dead. He was dead. His friend was dead. His doing. Why?_

Another voice entered his at a loss and tortured memory, in a confusing and at the same time bright revelation. This voice he _did_ remember. A voice he had cast aside. His sister.

_You competed for it you competed for it you competed for it. You wanted this. It is all your fault, all your own fault._

_No!_ he screamed.

Another sound started to penetrate the mayhem raging in his mind. It was soft but persistent, some kind of chant, repeated over and over again like a mantra. Gentle fingers caressed his face, applying mild pressure on his temples. A mellow light seemed to seep into his head, first in blinking dots that gradually connected to swaying ribbons; they wove together to make a soft but strong shield wall that with inexorable determination shoved the cruel images and thoughts out of his mind. Slowly the memories grew fainter and finally faded into the background. Peace descended, leaving him with a mild headache, an aching throat and burning lungs. But no more inner pain. Just calm and stillness.

‘That’s better,’ murmured a voice he vaguely recognized. ‘Sometimes it _is_ better to forget.’  
There was no victory in the voice, only a strange mild form of satisfaction he didn’t understand. He let out a light sigh; it didn’t matter. His mind was at peace again, although it was a brittle, very brittle peace.

The voice got replaced by a much more familiar one, a warm and loving and beloved one. His sigh changed to relief by feeling her presence. ‘It’s all right Fenris, I’m here. I’m with you.’ Her warm arms held him firmly and her fingers tenderly stroked his hair and back. He clutched her shoulders as if he had been in danger of drowning and she had just rescued him from certain death by dragging him out of life-threatening churning white water rapids. He buried his face in her shoulder. ‘She sold me,’ he rasped in a hoarse whisper, giving word to the one memory that had been so shocking it wouldn’t go away entirely. ‘My mother sold me.’ Marian was the only one he would confide in, the only one he trusted with this awful revelation.

Hawke cringed. It took all of her self control not to burst into rage. _That monster!_ ‘No Fenris, she didn’t,’ she said as soothingly as she could manage, fervently trying to hide the tremor in her voice. ‘It is what he wants you to believe. He wants to break you.’ _And did a damn good job too_ , she thought bleakly. She put her arms tighter around him and cradled him like a baby. ‘It is not true,’ she mumbled, ‘whatever he showed you, it is not true.’ She tried to pour the love she carried for him through her fingers into his skin, into his very essence and to her relief she felt his labouring breath slowly even out. The last flicker of his lyrium markings extinguished.

The others stood clustered around them, rendered speechless, and stared unsettled at the puddle of misery and despair the fierce elven warrior had turned into. This was so unlike him that they didn’t know how to react. So, at first they just stared. Mesmerised and ill at ease.

Dorian was the first to break the awkward spell. ‘Ye gods,’ he muttered after a few moments, ‘I reckoned Danarius was perverse, but this goes far beyond my darkest suspicions.’ Because it was more than obvious where the birthplace of this torment originated.

‘Makes you think twice about the benefits of slavery, doesn’t it. Again so, I hope,’ Evelyn replied savagely, her mouth a harsh thin line. Despite Hawke’s warning she had been trapped in the clutches of the Nightmare herself but almost immediately woke out of it when the flash of blue-white lyrium exploded like a warning beacon. Strangely enough the images that had tried to take form hadn’t handled about demons and their persistent endeavours to let her surrender to their alluring promises of power and cheap solutions. Not even about her pride of being able to shut them out so easily. No, she suddenly felt the helpless desperation of the little girl trying to hang on to her mother’s skirts while determined hands dragged her inside a cold and forbidding looking building. But the overwhelming feelings of panic and desolation had been shredded by Fenris’s scream before they well and truly could have crushed her.

‘Hawke said that, whatever it _was_ that Fenris saw, wasn’t real,’ Cullen said hesitantly, suppressing a shiver. He caught himself staring at the elf in comprehension. There had been a short but very vivid string of disturbing pictures of the mages who had been made tranquil under his command as Knight Captain in Kirkwall, accompanied by a near intolerable feeling of guilt. But before the last face, that he knew with near certainty would have been Evelyn’s, became clear, the strident scream had thankfully shaken him back into the present.

Dorian cast a short sidelong glance at Evelyn’s grim face. ‘I figure that, even if they are twisted and warped, his memories must have been horrendous to start with.’ He had not the heart to repeat that House Pavus was by no means comparable to Danarius’s evil and disgusting practices. He was certain she would scorch him with an exceptionally vicious fireball if he dared to, and moreover it was of no importance at this moment. Silently he had to admit it would have been a misplaced arrogant remark, fit for a member of Tevinter nobility. Makes you think twice indeed. He felt deeply ashamed. For his people, for his country and, yes, for himself. The insight was more than unnerving and he wondered secretly if this also was the influence of that grating voice. Nervously he plucked at his impeccable moustache.

The Iron Bull swallowed hard. There weren’t many things that could put him off balance. Mostly they made him just go off. Without any additives. But this blatant testimony of pure and utter suffering played havoc on his mind, much more so than the sudden half forgotten fears from his youth had done. Those he had already disregarded as irksome pinpricks from the past. Annoying but not significant. He had stood on the brink of shouting, challenging: is this the best you can do?! when the elf broke down. Or better: shattered to pieces. Obviously the Nightmare _could_ do better.

He had come to know Fenris as a steadfast person and he couldn’t begin to fathom what the elf had had to endure in his period of enslavement to collapse like this. He hazarded a glance from the corner of his eye at Dorian. The man looked as if _he_ was responsible for the elf’s misery. _Good_ , was his first impulsive thought. He frowned. No. Not good. Dorian had come to Haven to put things right. He allowed himself a small inner smile. Well, perhaps some personal vendetta had played its part, or better some juvenile reaction to his father’s dominance had done, but on the whole he had been sincere in his intention. He didn’t deserve such scornful criticism, not even a silent one. Instinctively he put an arm around the mage’s shoulders and was amazed Dorian didn’t bite back a poisonous retort  but just leant into him. It was quite a revelation the boisterous and posh Tevinter mage was taken aback for once. It was not only a revelation but quite endearing as well. His heart swelled. And at the same time he wondered why. He got no time to recuperate.

Finally Fenris lifted his head and the sad look he gave Marian almost broke her heart. ‘I am sorry,’ he croaked, the rough velvet of his voice coarse like gravel due to his desperate scream. ‘Once again we are in the Fade and once again I fail you.’

Hawke tried not to flinch which wasn’t easy. How typical him, dwelling on the mistakes he made, blaming himself, at least when he thought he had wronged her.  She cupped his face with both hands and conjured up her most reassuring smile. ‘How can you say such a thing? You didn’t fail me!’

‘You didn’t let that – _thing_ ensnare you,’ Fenris said miserably.

‘No? I cannot help but recall quite plainly I let _that_ _thing_ drive me away from you. And you saw what a nervous wreck I was after you found me! And _I_ didn’t have my lost memories thrown at me like some kind of avalanche of horrors!’

Fenris grimaced. ‘I can no longer imagine why I was so adamant on having my memories back,’ he said. ‘I should have realised they could only reveal obnoxious facts.’  

With a tender gesture Marian wiped the silken moonlike bangs of his dishevelled hair from his brow. ‘Those weren’t facts,’ she began but Fenris shook his head and stopped her before she could end her sentence.

‘Perhaps not but I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.’ He looked pleadingly and she melted. This was the look she never could resist. ‘I need to think about it and this is neither the place nor the time.’

‘Of course, love, you’re right. For starters we should have access to several bottles of wine. Or preferably a well-stocked wine cellar.’ The remark earned her a wan smile. And at this grave moment she couldn’t ask for more.

With some difficulty Fenris stood and his eyes fell on Cole who looked sincerely back. ‘He only wants to hurt you,’ the boy said softly, ‘and he will lie to do that. He lies all the time.’

Only now Fenris remembered he had met the – whatever he was – at Skyhold. Back then he had hardly taken notice of him. He remembered him as the boy with the hat. Somewhere lingering in the background. Looking at him intensely. Then again, he was used to people looking at him intensely. It came with the markings. He had disregarded his attention the moment he got aware of it. And now the strange boy was here and had eased his trepidation. He had serious troubles getting his brain around that fact, especially since aforesaid brain was still a bit foggy. The boy hadn’t been with them when they fell into the Fade, so how had he managed to get here? Tired the elf rubbed his forehead. It could wait, just like the images still nagging at the edge of his conscience could wait to be dealt with. ‘I really hope he did,’ he mumbled after some considerations. ‘Thank you for the help you gave.’

‘That’s what he’s here for.’ For the first time Varric raised his voice. ‘Corypheus sticks knives in your guts and Cole stands ready with the metaphorical bandages and ointments.’ Even in his own ears he sounded hysterically cheerful, with the emphasis on hysterically. But, then again, he had never seen Fenris like this. Vicious, yes. Furious, that also. Broody, definitely. Out of control? Never. Let alone he would lose himself in public like a depression on a rampage. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This stupid description, colourful as it might be, and the words he thoughtlessly had blurted out, were painfully inappropriate. He knew, of course, but he was completely out of his depth. So much, in fact, he had ended on the top of Mount Bewilderment.

‘Thank you so much for the bright explanation, Varric,’ Evelyn said sarcastically. ‘Where would we be without your sharp wit?’ She turned to the Qunari. ‘Bull? Next time you feel the urge to hit someone, leave Fenris alone and try to knock some sense into the dwarf instead.’

‘Hey!’ reacted Bull indignantly. ‘I was just trying to help!’ He strengthened his hold on Dorian´s shoulders and was quite amazed the mage didn´t protest. On the contrary; he leaned even closer to him. Without thinking Bull fastened his grip. 

Evelyn stuck out her chin. ‘By treating Fenris like a silly frenzied chit?’

With one slightly raised dark eyebrow Fenris’s gaze wandered from one companion to the other and he couldn’t help noticing they all still looked more than a little taken aback. It didn’t sit well with him that it was his doing. ‘I apologize for my behaviour,’ he said meekly.

‘Are you mad?’ countered Varric, hotly. ‘If the nightmares of my past would pounce upon me unannounced, I daren’t take responsibility for what I’d do. Probably let Bianca run amok, in which case you’d all have ended up looking like very dead porcupines.’ _Especially when the way in which I definitely did_ not _kill my brother springs to mind one more time_ , he thought, shuddering at the vision of how he kept on stabbing and hitting Bartrand’s bloodied, maimed corpse. It wasn´t true, he knew, but, by the stone, how it _seemed_ to be true.

Fenris couldn’t suppress a laugh, though it was a shaky one. He felt Marian’s hand slip into his and squeeze softly. Encouraged by this simple gesture he definitely pulled himself together. ‘I think we’d better focus on finding the exit to this dismal place,’ he said, ‘we’ve spend too much time on my fit already.’

And then his look fell upon Anders who a fraction too late tried to dissolve between the stalagmites.

-

Impatiently Leliana stood tapping her foot, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. ‘What do you mean, they vanished?’ she snarled at one of her subordinates. ‘People don’t just vanish like that! They must be somewhere! And where’s Cullen?’ She had just entered Adamant Fortress to assess the situation and immediately she blundered into trouble.

The scout shrugged helplessly. ‘I truly don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the start of the battle.’

‘Eh, ma’am,’ one of the soldiers who stood nearby timidly piped up. ‘The Commander went after the Inquisitor when the battle was over. I saw him running up the stairs.’

Leliana cursed inwardly. ‘Besotted fool,’ she grumbled under her breath. She glared angrily at the rift that hung menacingly above the courtyard of Adamant Fortress. At least it looked dormant; no demon had appeared through it – yet. And the archdemon, or dragon or whatever that beast was supposed to be, had taken its leave as abrupt as it had shown up. The stronghold was captured without too many casualties on their side; the surviving Grey Wardens had been driven together into a corner of the courtyard and were guarded by Inquisition soldiers although, admittedly, there wasn’t much guarding necessary. They were meek as lambs, especially the mages. _Count your blessings_ , Leliana mused mordantly. Everything was going great but for the absence of the Inquisitor and the Commander.

‘I believe they all chased Clarel,’ the soldier explained helpfully, ‘up to the ramparts. But we found only the Grey Warden commander’s corpse and the unconscious body of Erimond up there.’

Leliana grunted exasperated. ‘Captain Halbert!’ she called out. ‘You’re in charge for the time being. See to it the order gets restored and keep an eye on that blasted thing.’ She pointed with an aggressive finger at the slow pulsating rift. She addressed the scout standing next to her. ‘Search the castle, comb it from top to bottom. I want every last Warden to be found. Look also for a sign of Marian Hawke. Any sign. And send some people to investigate the surroundings as well. I expect a full report at morning. And you,’ she viciously turned to the soldier, ‘take me to the ramparts.’

The poor soldier swallowed but did her bidding. What choice did he have anyway?

Fifteen minutes and a lot of staircases later Leliana stood staring at the crumbled fortifications.  She felt her pulse pick up a few paces too many. ‘You don’t think –‘ she coughed awkwardly to get rid of the annoying lump that began to form in her throat, ‘you don’t think they have fallen to their deaths?’

‘No ma’am,’ the soldier answered timidly, ‘there were no bodies lying at the foot of the wall. We’ve already looked. However...’ He hesitated.

‘However what?’ Leliana snapped. ‘Spit it out!’

‘Someone claims he saw a rift pop up, right over this spot, just after the dragon flew away.’ Cautiously the soldier took a step backward. ‘He claims the Inquisitor did it. I thought he was talking rubbish. Ma’am. Sorry,’ he added meekly

‘A rift? Another one than the one down in the courtyard?’ The soldier nodded wordlessly. ‘I need to speak with that witness.’ With rising alarm Leliana stared at the innocent looking star-jewelled sky. If there had been a rift, there wasn’t a trace of it left. ‘Demons come from the other side of rifts,’ she mumbled. A terrifying suspicion arose and she took a few deep breaths to calm down. ‘If what your witness says is true, then it might well be they ended up in the Fade.’ _And if Cullen ran after Trevelyan, undoubtedly he is with them_ , she thought. _What a mess._

‘Maker’s balls!’ the soldier swore. ‘Sorry.’ His eyes flew at her, expecting wrath, but finding contemplation. It added to his confusion.

‘Right,’ Leliana said determinedly. ‘Find me that person. Now.’

‘Yes ma’am.’ This he could cope with. The man darted away.

She scolded herself for letting her wariness slip; she never should have uttered her concern aloud, it could only cause panic. ‘Very professional, Spymaster,’ she scoffed, ‘well done.’ She hoped ardently the soldier what’s-his-name and his shady witness would keep their blather mouths shut. On the other hand, if the Inquisitor and the Commander really were trapped in the Fade, it would be a matter of very short time before the whole fortress was in an uproar. With a deep weary sigh she followed the soldier and wistfully descended the stairs. ‘Oh Evelyn, what have you done,’ she murmured. ‘Andraste preserve you all.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope we can crawl out of that damned Fade in the next chapter; to be honest I’m fed up with it.
> 
> As always thank you very much for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

Wintersend part 18

-

Guardedly Cullen looked from the elf to the Grey Warden mage and back, his uneasiness growing alarmingly high. _If looks could kill..._ If there was truth in clichés, here was the ultimate proof of it. He felt the tension swiftly rise until it almost literally crackled like an electrical charge between the two males. In a determined attempt to prevent a lethal outburst he stepped forward, one hand cautiously on the hilt of his sword, the other one held up in a pacifying gesture. It wouldn’t help the already tight situation if these two sworn enemies would flow at each other’s throats.  He had once had to separate an angry mob consisting of mages and ex-Templars and though Fenris represented nothing even close to a Templar, the circumstances were eerily similar, if not more fiery.

‘I thought I had encountered all of my demons already,’ Fenris growled, glowering darkly, ‘apparently I was wrong.’ His voice still didn´t operate properly; he sounded low and rough and therefore even more ominous.

In contrast Anders’s voice rang out unnaturally shrill. ‘Since Justice, or Vengeance if you will, has taken his leave, I think it’s hardly fair to speak of demons,’ he reacted in a bad attempt at humour. To his defence, it must be said he was as taut as a bowstring; any moment now he expected blue lightning flashing through him. And he was fairly positive no-one would rush to his aid should that happen.

‘I suggest we keep it civilised, gentlemen,’ Cullen said before either men could make a rash move. His concern was justified; the only reason Fenris hadn’t leapt into action was because his head felt as if it was filled with silk bandages. His voice wasn’t the only part of his body that didn’t function properly as yet. Anders on his part looked edgy, and very much willing to defend his skin, and preferably most of his vital organs, at any cost. Despite Cullen’s efforts the tension only appeared to rise and so he was grateful Hawke stepped in. Moments later, however, it looked like her interference would backfire.

Tentatively, she touched the elf’s hand. ‘Fenris,’ she said softly, ‘I know how you feel. I wanted to kill him myself, believe me. But don’t you think it’s better to cooperate than to slaughter each other? For the time being at least? We will need all our combined forces to get out of this place.’

The elf spun around and a dangerous light flared up in his eyes while he hissed, ‘You _knew_ he was here!’ He swatted her hand away and to everyone’s dismay the blue shimmer was back in a blink. They all looked nervously at him except for Hawke who parried his fuming glare with a calm one of her own.

‘Yes, I did,’ she replied unperturbed. ‘But before you’re going to shout the obvious, bear in mind I’ve had not much of an opportunity to tell you.’

For a few stressed moments her words only seemed to make things worse; Fenris’s face contorted in a nasty sneer, his fingers twitched and overall he looked like he was about to explode but then he relaxed. He breathed deeply and said, ‘You are right. As usual,’ he added, wryly.

Silently, he had to confess she was the only one who could rein him in when he was about to blunder against or, worse, burst through, the boundaries of self-control. Especially when mages or magic were involved. In fact, she was the only one he allowed to control him like this. The only one who was worth listening to. And she was a mage. Oh the irony. But she had proven herself on more than one occasion and he trusted her. He loved her for it. He deflated some more and turned to Anders. ‘I will tolerate your presence – for now. But be sure to keep away from me,’ he warned menacingly, because he wasn’t willing to give up his grudge just like that. This was Anders after all. And Anders personified everything he loathed. Starting from magic and, worse, being possessed by a dangerous demon, going along belittling him, and ending with trying to steal his woman away. Or the other way around; the order didn’t matter. And to crown it all he had blown up the Kirkwall Chantry and started a bloody war. ‘I won’t take responsibility for what happens if you don’t.’

There was a collective sigh of relief, like a sudden cool breeze on a stifling hot day. Fenris realised everyone had followed his every move with more than tense interest which wasn’t that strange after what had happened. The insight had the effect of a sobering cold shower. His clenched hands unfolded and he sought Hawke’s fingers that hovered not far away to answer her light touch. He could feel her warm smile through her fingertips.

‘We have a truce then?’ said Cullen, to be on the safe side.

‘As far as I’m concerned, we have,’ Fenris retorted reluctantly. Marian’s hand squeezed his and he returned the silent smile. In another life, he would have considered it some kind of collaring but after knowing her for almost thirteen years, and loving her for the most of it, he knew better. He had freed himself once and freed himself again, but he could never have been able to establish that last occurrence without her. Not just because she had stood beside him, but because she had taught him the values of freedom. Of free choice. And he had chosen her. No collar, no slavery, but love. And yes, the compromises that came with it. Valuable lessons indeed.

The Commander looked at Anders who smiled meekly back. ‘Do I have a choice?’

‘No,’ Cullen stated determinedly, ‘I just want to be certain you won’t give us more problems than we already have. And understanding can only go that far.’

Evelyn cocked her head. ‘Why do I get the feeling you also met him earlier?’ she said tartly. The suspicion she was missing some important information rose high and she felt left out. She didn’t like it.

‘Because I did. We more or less bumped into each other. Literally.’ Cullen waved impatiently. ‘It doesn’t matter right now, we have other issues to cope with. We can decide what to do with Anders once we’re back into safety.’

‘Relative safety,’ Dorian muttered under his breath but shot the Commander his most captivating smile when he sensed his frown.

‘Well, Blondie,’ Varric said casually, ‘apparently you get the chance to score points for good behaviour. I’d do my utmost to reach the high score if I were you.’

A low threatening rumble began and the atmosphere actually vibrated as with tense, almost tangible anticipation. Not a moment later the Nightmare stirred again to fulfil the anxious foreboding. ‘I am the veiled Hand of Corypheus himself,’ he announced pompously, oozing superior self-righteousness.

The Iron Bull was the first one to react and he reacted heatedly in his annoyance. ‘Oh cut the crap!’ he shouted irritably, putting all his Qunari aggressiveness in those four words and jutting out his massive chin to underline his anger. ‘Save your yapping for someone more gullible!’

‘I’ll grow fat on your fears,’ the voice boomed, a little louder now as if he had to shout down some uncertainty. Undoubtedly it hadn’t expected this kind of down-to-earth reply.

‘Then you’ll go hungry today!’ Bull triumphantly bellowed his response. ‘You don’t frighten us with your blather mouth!’ (Fenris grimaced self-conscientiously at the Qunari’s shoulder with a painful scowl on his face. Bull acted he didn’t notice.)

The Nightmare roared frustrated and after that abruptly fell silent. And stayed silent, though its quiet angry brooding was so palpable it nearly claimed its own existence.

‘Well done, Bull,’ Dorian said appreciatively, ‘you scared it off quite adroitly.’

‘Hmm yes,’ Evelyn ruminated, ‘the Bull has that kind of effect on people – and entities obviously.’ She became alert. ‘Speaking of entities ... where is Cole?’ She looked around but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Varric shrugged. ‘He may have become more human but he still wields his spirit tricks. He comes and goes as he pleases and though he complains he can’t make himself invisible anymore, I don’t see much difference with the old Cole to be honest.’ He smirked. ‘Leliana still doesn’t know who puts honey in her wine.’

‘I think he has retreated to mourn over his companion,’ Anders timidly piped up, ‘she didn’t survive her last exertion. I suppose it moved him more than he let show.’

‘She’s – dead?’ said Hawke hesitantly. She wasn’t certain what “being dead” or “die” meant to spirits. Regretfully she shook her head. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised, she was very weak already, but I’m sorry to hear it.’

Evelyn worried her lower lip and thought of something considerate to say. She came no further than a rather lame, ‘her sacrifice won’t be forgotten,’ and nearly cringed at the cheap words. To make it worse Anders said, ‘He named her Hope.’ It gave the spirit, who at the cost of her own existence, had brought back her memories and had convinced her of their importance, a face and a personality, especially with that kind of positive and encouraging name. But at the same moment she realised this was neither the time nor the place to ponder such philosophies. She straightened her shoulders and looked around the circle of companions. ‘Perhaps we can have some kind of ceremony when we’re back in Skyhold to honour her but right now we have no other choice than to move on.’ That said, she turned around and resolutely started to walk towards the beckoning rift that was their portal to Adamant Fortress. She hoped.

-

Cole, in the meantime, was roaming the Fade, urgently searching for one specific spirit. With the ability he still possessed from the long time he had been a spirit himself, he had easily adapted to this till now unknown part of the dream realm and thus he knew what danger lay ahead. His friends required all the help they could get. He couldn’t bring about an army – spirits weren’t that easily united and demons, of course, were out of the question – but he could at least try to call upon Justice’s long lasted connection with Anders.

He had left Hope on the boulder where her existence had come to a halt. He had folded her frail hands over her chest and arranged her hair like a halo around her head. He had softly kissed her brow and had noticed a near imperceptible smile still lingered around her cold lips. He recognised his actions were as human as they could get which was more evidence of his growth. Right now he didn’t know if that was a good development. He knew, of course, that Hope would vanish between what would count for about an hour or so in the living world and he would never see her again, not in the way she had been. It saddened him greatly but he sank his teeth into the task he had imposed on himself. He could show his worth and was resolute to do so.

-

‘No no no no! Not fair! Not fair!’ yammered Sera. ‘That thing was napping! I hate friggin demons!’

‘Lose the hysterics, Sera,’ Leliana spoke, sternly. She stood next to the springy elf and shot her arrows into the throng of demons that tumbled through the rift. Because, as she had already feared, the bloody thing had gone from dormant into very much awake before the night had been over.

‘Where’s Miss Shiny Hand when you need her?!’ Sera whinged.

‘Stop bellyaching and just use your bow!’ the Spymaster snapped.

From the corner of her eye she saw Cassandra furiously ramming her shield home as if she was personally affronted by the rage demon she was manhandling. Despite everything she smiled inwardly. Cassandra was always so fanatical with everything she undertook. She even approached writing reports as a battle and the quills suffered under it. Blackwall was methodically slicing through the ungodly creatures, using his shield to ward off attacks instead of breaking bones while higher on the battlements Vivienne and Solas were wielding their staffs, emitting wave after wave of strong concentrated magic. The elven man had shown up not long before, stoic as ever, but Leliana couldn’t shake off the impression something was bothering him. Something that made him angry rather than concerned. She couldn’t spot Cole but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here somewhere. The ghost-boy’s tracks were still difficult to follow. The Inquisition soldiers and the Grey Wardens were fighting side by side and up till now they were successful in deflecting the swarm of demons, no matter how much Sera was griping.

But this couldn’t go on forever. There was a limit to their stamina and the demons kept on emerging in a never-ending stream of filth and malice. If the Inquisitor didn’t come to their rescue very soon, they would get the worst of it. In that ghastly scenario there wouldn’t be a living soul left to give witness of what had happened at Adamant Fortress.

-

‘Fasta vass,’ Dorian muttered despondently, partly in fear and partly in awe, ‘that’s a big – whatever it is.’ He very much wanted to keep up the appearance of the cool and collected and – above all, steadfast – man with that irresistible, slightly rebellious, touch of humour but it was hard with that gruesome beast as a particularly revolting spoiler of the view.

‘It certainly looks like a nightmare,’ Evelyn reacted, ‘I wouldn’t like to encounter something like that in my dreams.’ An involuntary shiver shot down her spine. They loitered between some pillars to assess the situation and stared gloomily at the monstrosity that stood between them and the rift to freedom.

‘You wished this were a dream,’ the Bull grouched sulkily. ‘That ugly bulk over there looks real enough to me. And what do we do now? We need an army to get pass it.’

‘Or a diversion,’ Cullen said, wistfully.

‘Great plan!’Varric mocked. ‘Why don’t we throw some stones in the opposite corner and hope the creep will go after them so we can sneak behind its back into the real world?’

‘No,’ Cullen said pensively, ‘someone has to catch its attention by attacking it.’ His voice sounded distant.

Evelyn whipped her head around to face him. With a sharp insight that cut like a knife through her innards she guessed his intention. ‘Oh no,’ she breathed hoarsely, ‘don’t you dare. Don’t you dare to even utter that insane proposition. You’re _not_ going to forfeit your life.’

Cullen avoided looking at her when he said, ‘I am the Commander. It is my duty to keep my men safe.’

‘It is your duty to lead them!’ Evelyn cried out heatedly. ‘And you cannot lead them when you’re dead! The Inquisition needs you! What’s got into you?!’

Cullen closed his eyes and considered his decision. Was he really ready to die? To give his life to provide the others with the chance to survive this ordeal? Long ago, during the revolt instigated by Uldred, he had been convinced he would perish in that awful magical prison. After that influential incident there had been many occasions in which he could have lost his life. It wouldn’t have bothered him very much, not back then. But now his life had changed and the woman responsible for that stood right next to him with wide pleading eyes. He had found love, he had found a purpose and even had found peace of mind. He had drastically cut off his life as a Templar, had faced the errors of his bigotry and even made amends with that part. He finally truly lived. _Lived_! But now fate demanded he had to give up all those unexpected wonderful gifts to allow the world to keep on existing. Or perhaps it was the Maker. He had never been zealous but had always embraced his faith as a comfort, something to rely on when doubt threatened to overwhelm him. Like now. He felt Evelyn’s hand clasping around his arm.

‘You can’t do this!’ she whispered desperately.

Could he leave her behind? Of course not. But what choice did he have? He was responsible for the wellbeing of his friends. He was the Commander, his first and most essential task was to keep them safe. _You will break her heart._ He winced. _Personal is not the same as important._ ‘I left my men in an irresponsible impulse,’ he murmured, ‘and now I can rectify that mistake by rescuing you.’ He put his hand over hers. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘Remember that.’ Did he want to retaliate for his irresponsible reaction? Perhaps. Did he want to play the hero? Certainly not. He wanted to put things right. To give her a chance to escape this nightmare. And if it would take his life, so be it.

Evelyn had a completely different opinion. ‘No! You can’t do this!’ She let go of him and clenched her jaw. She was angry and confused and acted on a whim. ‘I’ll distract that monster.’

His heart froze in an instant. ‘What?! Are you mad? You’re the Inquisitor!’

‘Exactly,’ Evelyn said frostily. ‘So it falls on me to take the responsibility.’

Cullen stared in horror. ‘You’re the only one who can close the rifts! The only one who can beat Corypheus! You can’t leave the world –‘ He got abruptly interrupted.

‘I will go.’

Everyone turned to gaze at Anders. He had been fidgeting nervously with his fingers during the discussion between the Inquisitor and the Commander but from the start it had been clear to him. ‘I will do it.’

‘Anders...’ Hawke said cautiously.

But the mage heaved his head high and firmly gripped his staff. ‘I may not have started the trouble in Thedas but I’ve done enough harm as it is. I want to redeem myself.’

After only a short hesitation Fenris stepped forward and extended his hand. ‘I have despised you for as long as I’ve known you but with this act you have won my admiration and respect. I will not forget this.’

More than a little startled Anders accepted the elf’s offered hand and smiled wanly.

It was more than strange to accept praise from him but, nevertheless, it touched him deeply.

‘Thank you. That means a lot to me. Take care of Hawke.’ He waved off the others. ‘Please, no goodbyes.’ He took a gulp of air and started to walk to the living Nightmare. The thing came into motion and slowly unfolded to its real impressive size. It was like watching a mountain standing up. Anders swallowed but kept on going, holding his staff in front of him, as if that would help him to beat the gruesome thing. The Nightmare roared with a deep devastating sound and lashed out with its tentacles –

– At that very moment a figure sprinted into the scene.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ With a mighty crash Justice ran Anders over and immediately after swirled to the monster. ‘You deal with me and no-one else, you fucking bastard!’ he hollered. The Nightmare shifted its attention to the unleashed spirit and seemed to falter for a few precious moments. Evidently, this came as much as a surprise to him as to the others.

From his place on the floor Anders blinked in utter bewilderment and he hadn’t even the presence of mind to scramble onto his feet. ‘You never cursed before,’ he mumbled, dazed. ‘Must be my bad influence. Again.’ Someone grabbed his arm and without further ado dragged him to the rift that presented their safe haven.

‘Take your chances where you see them,’ the Bull grumbled, ‘today is a good day. A day you don’t have to die.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... And we made it out of the Fade. Finally!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but I’m still busy packing and organizing. Nevertheless: a new chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Wintersend part 19

-

Leliana noticed, to her dismay, that Sera had grown too tired to curse or even whimper. It worried her; normally the elf would curse and utter her colourful swearwords till she’d run out of breath. The worrying part was that Leliana never had experienced Sera running out of breath. Till now she always had been able to find some spare air. For a heartbeat she feared she was dead, had fallen at her side without her being aware of it. She hazarded a quick glance and, relieved, saw the elven girl was still shooting her arrows. But now she also caught her voice that near inaudible was mumbling something that almost sounded like enchantments, but probably were desperate prayers. It was hard to tell, but considering her fear of magic and adding the elf’s strange language, probably picked up in the gutters of Denerim, Leliana assumed, it was a good guess. She could sympathize. At this moment she stood on the brink of bursting into prayer as well. It had been a long time since she had felt that urge.

The death of Divine Justinia had deprived her of the last part of her faith; being the Left Hand for so many years had taken care of the most of it before that shattering disaster dealt the final blow. She had hidden it well, in particular to herself. Sometimes she could, intensely, long back for that young passionate woman who had believed the Maker had called upon her to throw in her lot with Elissa Cousland to end the Blight. She dearly missed that girl. Despite what had happened between her and her former tutor and lover, she still had been so naive back in those days, but finding religion in the small Lothering Chantry had invigorated her. At first her belief had given her the peace of mind she had craved for and she had been convinced it would mend her inner injuries. Soon after it had given her the boost and courage to follow the woman that would become the Hero of Ferelden to fight the Blight. That bright, rock-fast belief had become the most important pillar of her existence.

Eventually it had culminated in reaching the position of the Divine’s Left Hand. Ironically, that had caused her faith to go downhill alarmingly fast because she found out the Chantry was about power and influence much more than about religion. And learning that the discovery of Andraste’s Ashes had only led to corruption, bribery and infighting, as Morrigan had already cynically predicted, had only been proof of the Chantry’s depravity. Nevertheless, she had always stood at the Divine’s left shoulder, steady as a rock. The sincerity of her prayers, though, had waned till the point they were no more than hollow words, spoken with indifference as a part of the daily routine, and the dream of the enthusiastic, young lay sister was farther away than ever. She doubted she’d ever find her again.

The thoughts spiralled through her mind at a subconscious level while her fingers automatically plucked the arrows out of the quiver on her back, nocked them on the bowstring and let them loose in much practiced fluid movements. The moment she had dreaded came sooner than she had already feared: reaching for the umpteenth time for her quiver she seized nothing but air. She had run out of arrows. With a shuddering sigh she looked around to assess the situation. The Inquisition troops and the Grey Wardens were still fighting valiantly but it was obvious they slowly but surely were getting overpowered by fatigue. To make things worse she heard Sera pick up her cursing again, in a high squealing voice this time. It was clear she too had shot her last missile. And the demons just kept on emerging.

And then the rift started to twist and turn as if someone was pulling at it. To Leliana’s immense joy a bunch of well-known people tumbled down, among which the Inquisitor herself. ‘The lady likes to make an entrance,’ she mumbled.

-

Evelyn was overly relieved they ended up in the courtyard of Adamant Fortress and not in a nondescript place somewhere else in Thedas. On the other hand, she was not at all amazed they landed in a nest of demons, and worse, in the middle of a ferocious fray. Her life seemed to be an endless chain of that kind of events nowadays. It didn’t take the eye of an expert to see the vile creatures were getting the upper hand. Clever tactics would be of no use; this was simply a question of acting like very much longed for reinforcements. ‘Wipe them away!’ she thus yelled and set the good example by attacking a rage demon with a blast of ice-magic. Cullen drew his sword and started shouting orders while the Bull like a living snow plough shoved the confused foes out of his path.

Fenris pushed Hawke out of the way of direct danger. ‘Stay behind me,’ he more or less commanded her. ‘You don’t have your staff.’

‘I don’t need a weapon to fight,’ Hawke protested, but Fenris wouldn’t have it.

‘Get behind me!’ he growled in a low voice.

‘Fine. Shall we form some kind of cute little train?’ pouted Hawke. ‘Do you want me to put a hand on your shoulder? Or shall I just hold on to your belt so you can drag me along?’

Fenris didn’t bother with an answer to this pretty juvenile reaction while he cleaved his broadsword through three shadows at the same time with one mighty sweep. He didn’t flinch when Hawke launched a firebolt over his right shoulder and hit a pride demon clear in the chest. ‘Go ahead,’ she said, ‘make your lighting spurt and skewer the beast. I’ll wait right here for you to come back and act like my elven shield once more. Like a good obedient girl ought to do.’

‘You’re impossible,’ Fenris grumbled, just before he shot forward, his blade poised overarm, to give the demon a deathblow.

‘But sweet!’ Hawke merrily called after him while she let loose a stonefist to aid him in his action. To her satisfaction it was a full hit. ‘Staff!’ she said sarcastically. ‘A real mage doesn’t need a staff. It’s just for show.’

That, of course, was not entirely true. A staff helped to aim more proper and extend the energy and power of the spells, but a mage as capable as she was could do without.

Again she assembled fire in her hand, this time to hurl a fireball at the pride demon’s head while Fenris, after slashing its shoulder, now lunged for the demon’s thighs. They had battled together so often, they knew exactly each other’s tactics and how to anticipate the moves they would take. And she knew damn well that Fenris relied on her back support, even though he had told her sternly to stay out of the fight. She looked vulnerable without her weapon in her hands. She recognized that he, just like her, was aware it was nonsense but nevertheless he was afraid she couldn’t cope and would be an easy target. And how could she blame him? She had disappeared to protect him, he only had ordered her to stay out of the turmoil. Hawke smiled inwardly. He might shout all he wanted, when push came to shove they automatically fell back into their old routine. With or without a staff.

“ _Take care of Hawke_ ”.

Anders’s words suddenly roared up in her mind and in an instant she understood Fenris’s, in her eyes, ridiculous fretting and where it came from. He had already been deeply concerned about her and those words must have triggered some kind of inner sincere promise to keep her safe, whatever the cost. If not to Anders, then to himself. How typical him, gone through such an ordeal and still worrying about her. The next fireball missed its target due to a mist of sudden tears.

Anders, in the meantime, was mainly busy with dodging missiles and staying alive. He felt very faint. He had expected to stay behind in the Fade and forgo his life in an ultimate deed of self sacrifice. Not that he had looked forward to actually ending his existence but, as he had seen it, it had been inevitable at any rate. Despite the explanation of Cullen why he was hearing the Calling, he still wasn’t totally convinced he wouldn’t die of the taint between now and very soon. And besides that, he had felt he owed the world this one exploit. In hindsight he might not have started the bloody mess and he was not responsible for Corypheus’s disgusting acts and even more disgusting ambitions, he still had started the carnage in Kirkwall and many people saw him as the icon of the rebellion. His decision had been genuine and heartfelt and he had resigned to his death.

And then, in an unexpected flurry, Justice had taken the ground from under his feet, quite literally, by knocking him over and throwing himself at the Nightmare, and the odd Qunari had jerked him up and yanked him through the rift. He still couldn’t fully grasp it. One moment he was about to die, the next he was alive and well and back in the real world. Hazily he noticed the fight end and the Inquisitor use her power to close the rift. And now, his reeling thoughts told him, he might be looking forward to a lawsuit, instigated by a het up Seeker, leading to his death all along. It was all very disturbing. He longed immensely for a strong drink.

-

Immediately after the relative peace had been restored, Evelyn, and the comrades who had together with her miraculously materialized out of the rift, got buried under a barrage of questions, until Leliana elbowed a way through the crowd and cut everybody short. ‘Make yourselves sparse,’ she snarled at the thronging warriors. She was grateful Captain Halbert kept his wits together and called the men to order. They dissolved within mere minutes, if only to look after their injured brothers and sisters-in-arms. ‘Where have you been?’ she addressed the Inquisitor in a not all too friendly tone. She still was wound up. Hugely. She still could hear Sera’s desperate prayers echoing in her mind.

Evelyn waved vaguely at the spot in the sky where shortly before the rift had been. ’In the Fade,’ she said nonchalantly as if she spoke about a leisurely stroll in a neatly laid out civilized forest. She smiled faintly. ‘It was quite an experience, let me tell you.’ Her smile became a little pained and Leliana got the impression that the stroll had been, in fact, a very bumpy ride. ‘I’ve no idea how long we’ve been away. How is the situation?’

‘Stable,’ Leliana answered curtly, feeling woozy but dismissing the quaint feeling right away. ‘Especially now you’re back and chased the demons away.’ She glared darkly at Cullen but withheld from further comment. For now. After she had made certain that silent “for now” had got through to the Commander, her eyes fell upon Marian Hawke who was standing next to Fenris. She had to blink twice to believe her own vision. ‘Champion!’ she called out in astonishment. ‘You were in the Fade as well? How did _you_ end up there?!’ After calling out those words she hardly could believe she really said them out loud. This was ridiculous.

Impatiently Hawke fluttered her hand. ‘Long story. Doesn’t matter right now.’ Leliana, still lingering in her amazement, noticed she looked rather pale in the early morning light and wondered what she had gone through since her disappearance.

‘Alright,’ Evelyn said, rubbing her forehead. ‘Is there somewhere quiet we can speak? We have a lot to discuss.’ She looked at her companions who stood in a rough circle around her. ‘I’d appreciate it if you’d come with me. If only to bear witness to the idiotic things that have happened and to make sure I get all the details right.’

Only now the Spy Master discovered an unknown face in the gathering, a face belonging to someone who very hard tried to hide behind Cullen’s back, almost like a toddler hanging onto his mother’s skirts.  After the unexpected turning up of the Champion, this was a new unpredicted surprise. She got a nasty jolt, a jolt that foreboded something even nastier. Evelyn followed her glance and grimaced mordantly in response. ‘Ah yes. One of the nice unforeseen gifts we encountered. He saddles us with quite a problem I’m afraid. One of the more grave items on the agenda, I think, although not the most urgent.’

Leliana’s attention swivelled from the unidentified male to the Inquisitor and back, while the cogs in her brains worked at top speed. The features of the face, working together with the jolt lingering in her stomach, acquired a name and her eyes flew wide. At once she understood the tense look the Inquisitor gave her. ‘Better keep him a secret for the time being,’ she murmured hoarsely, shocked. ‘Things are already strained enough as they are. Let’s find Clarel’s office. There we can confer without being disturbed.’ She was about to turn when a slight movement caught her already disturbed mind.

Her last word still hung in the air when she saw to her astonishment Marian Hawke turn sharply and run off, not moments later followed by Fenris. The woman held a hand to her mouth and contorted as if she was about to vomit.  ‘Clarel’s office is not _that_ terrible,’ she said confused. ‘What sort of strange statement was that?’

‘Don’t take it ill,’ Varric tried to explain, although he didn´t understand himself. He would, though, only admit that on the penalty of death. ‘It’s not you or the office. But both Hawke and Fenris took the full blast of the Nightmare, as it were.’ It was as good an explanation as any other, he reckoned. Though it didn’t settle the nasty pinpricks in his own guts. He ignored those as well as he could and soldiered heroically on. ‘And I think she’s simply fed up with it all. Or, as you will, sick of it.’ He smiled thinly, not entirely certain his rather lame joke had hit home. Leliana was not famous for her sense of humour and this hadn´t been his best pun to start with. He was the first to admit it. He grinned sheepishly. He’d rather run after Hawke but thought it better to stay put and try to handle the situation as best as he could. And, after all, Fenris was with her.

‘Nightmare?’ Leliana echoed nonplussed, dismissing Varric’s extensive stupid explanation of why Hawke ran away just like that.

‘Yes, Nightmare,’ Evelyn said. She added, pensively, ‘If it hadn’t been for Fenris we all would have suffered under it, despite Marian Hawke’s warning. He dragged us out of our paralysing stupor but paid dearly for it.’ She shot the Spymaster a wan smile. ‘Puzzles and riddles. Let’s head for that office and I’ll explain all of it.’

-

Gratefully Hawke accepted the mug of fresh water Fenris had fetched for her after her bout of vomiting. Which had been the reason why she had run away so suddenly. She rinsed her mouth and took a careful sip of the clear liquid. ‘Thank you,’ she mumbled weakly.

‘Are you feeling better?’ Fenris asked tentatively.

Hawke leant heavily against the parapet she had reached just in time to throw up over, hoping no-one was standing under it. She coughed and took another sip of water. ‘I believe so, yes,’ she murmured weakly. Not moments before she had felt well enough to make jolly remarks, and suddenly it seemed like the whole situation caught up with her and the aftermath hit her with unforeseen force. She puffed out some air. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

‘The urge to be sick, evidently,’ Fenris remarked drily. He regarded her with an anxiety that didn’t fit with his flippant words.

Nevertheless Hawke laughed shakily. ‘Í think it’s because of all the excitement I had to cope with recently.’ She heaved a deep sigh. ‘Speaking of which ... I cannot emphasise enough how much I admire you.’

Fenris raised his brow. ‘Admire me? For what? My nervous breakdown?’

Hawke turned sharply. Her gaze acquired a kind of saw-sharpness before she dimmed it and instead she slapped him lightly on his arm. ‘How can you call it that!’ she chastised him. ’You went through the worst crisis of your life, I imagine. I know what that horrible voice was capable of; I experienced it at first hand. And I went completely bonkers.´ Her face twitched forcefully.

‘So did I,’ Fenris pointed out, grabbing her hand and gently stroking her fingers. He sensed her agitated state of mind and fervently wanted to douse its fire. If only to prevent she would explode. He needed her to calm down. To his own good. To her own good.

‘And yet you didn´t join me in hanging over the parapet to spew out your guts,' Hawke grimaced weakly. ‘You managed to restore your bearing very swift.’ Fenris locked her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. She hadn’t exploded but this kind of reading his mind was perhaps even worse. After all their time together he might have expected this, but, even after all this time together, he still wasn’t used to it. Or better, not comfortable with it. Not comfortable with her looking plain through his thoughts and fears. Filleting him. And yet ... it had some kind of alluring feat ... he never needed to explain himself. She always understood him. It was worth a lot, if not everything.

The next moment that particular alluring feat turned against him. It might be worth everything, but now that she used it against him, it became frightening.

‘I can guess what you´re thinking,´ Hawke murmured to his dread, to accentuate his dread, against the exposed skin of his throat. ´You always do this when you don´t want me to see your expression.´ She felt him chortle silently. ´You _can_ tell me you´re head´s still one big whirling tornado, you know. I won´t blame you, mine’s the same. And, of course, you wonder whether the things that monster showed and told you are true or not.´

Now Fenris pulled her even closer, at the verge of crushing her.

´And I sense you don´t want to talk about it,´ she commented with some difficulty, since her ribcage was about to cave in. ´Even when you don´t speak, you make yourself very clear.´ She hesitated for only a moment before she resolutely went on. ´You must know that at least the part about your mother selling you to Danarius was pure bollocks. Your sister herself told you they both were slaves, so that doesn´t make any sense. And she sounded and looked very sincere in hurting you with the truth. She was very much out to crush you. To the death. So if _that_ was a lie, and you and I both know it wasn´t, you can bet your tasty tight tooshie the rest was too. And you really don´t have to strangle me to drive your point home.´

Fenris removed his arms and instead cupped her face. He rested his forehead against hers. ´I know you are right,´ he said softly, ´but please grant me some time to sort out those awful images.´

´Of course, my love,' Hawke reacted, more to tears than she wanted to be and, for that matter, wanted to let him know she was. ´And if you want to demolish something during the process, I all but understand.´ Tenderly she caressed his cheek. ´I will always be here for you. Whatever you need.´

´I love you,´ Fenris said simply, ´and right now I just need you to hold me.´

And so she did. Silently, without any more words.

-

The door had hardly shut behind them when Leliana burst into a furious rant. ‘How could you do this!’ she yelled at Cullen. ‘How could you leave your troops behind! You’re the Commander!’

Cullen bowed his head. ‘I know,’ he said meekly, ‘and I’m deeply sorry. I should have foreseen something like a demon attack would happen. I should have realised my presence was needed here. I wasn’t thinking.’

But Evelyn stood up for him and countered the Spymasters’ flaming eyes with an even more blazing pair. ‘He saw us fall. He saw _me_ fall and he panicked. I would have done the same, had I stood in his shoes.’ She narrowed her eyes and added menacingly, ‘Perhaps Fenris was right all along and you have never loved. Really loved. So you’re in no position to sentence him.’

The look the Spymaster fired at her would have scorched lesser women but Evelyn straightened her shoulders and stood tall, defying Leliana to do her worst. Before the situation got out of hand Cullen interfered. ‘No, Evelyn, she is right. I made a grave mistake.’ He turned to Leliana. ‘I’ll step down if that’s what you want.’

Evelyn stared incredulously at him. ‘Have you gone completely out of your mind?’ she shouted aggravated. ‘There will be no stepping down whatsoever! And I am the one to decide upon such a stupid whim! _I_ am the Inquisitor. Not Leliana.’ She almost stamped her foot to strengthen her standpoint.

And then Cullen, thoughtlessly, or better, musingly, blurted out the words that had swirled through his mind in the Fade …

‘No, Evelyn.’ He caught her look and silently pleaded for her understanding and forgiveness while he murmured, ‘Personal isn’t the same as important.’ He looked so miserable even the demons would have taken pity. ‘I should have stayed with my men, I should have disregarded my worries about you.’

‘Oh fuck,’ Varric muttered. ’Curly, I like you, but this was the worst you could have said right now.’

Evelyn stared incredulously at her lover. After she had regained her voice, she growled, ‘If that is any indication of how you consider our relationship, I, I…’ She swallowed hard. She didn’t know how to proceed, so, eventually she did the worst she could do. She broke down and lashed out on impulse. ‘I thought you loved me! I thought I could rely on you, but you turn out to be the disgusting prejudiced Templar you always were!’ she shouted before she turned and fled the room. That was absolutely not true and she didn’t believe it herself, but she had yelled the first words she could think of that would hurt him. She felt rattled to the bone after his reaction, especially after all they had gone through.

Cullen crumpled and hardly managed to grab the edge of the table standing in the middle of the room, trying to stay upright.

Leliana brought a hand to her chest and whispered, ‘This was not my intent.’ Suddenly she felt like that young passionate girl again and with wide terrified eyes sensed all the suppressed ardent feelings flying wild. She almost choked. He _loved_ her. She _loved him_. And with her angry words she had smothered their feelings. Or at least complicated them. She _had_ loved before. She understood. It had hurt her beyond bearing but that didn’t say she should stand like a cold glacier between others that yearned for warmth and love. She wanted to move, to react, but stood as frozen.

In the midst of the roaring silence Dorian’s voice sounded like a bell. ‘Perhaps you should go after her, _Commander_.’

It shook Cullen into life and again he ran as fast as he could.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you’re satisfied with this chapter, dear Toschi Worlds. Thanks again for your support!
> 
> For the Pratchett fans among you, yes it was a reference to Carrot. Sometimes Cullen makes me think of him…
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

Wintersend part 20

-

Evelyn had left Adamant Fortress and was now walking briskly along the road leading into the harsh, barren Approach. It was not her intent to run away. If that had been the case, she would have gone by horseback, but she needed time to calm down before she started hurling things around. The large battering-ram still stood before the smashed gates like an abandoned petrified monster from some old forgotten age. And right and left of the road she saw other pieces of siege equipment, mainly trebuchets, looming like sleeping dragons. It was a dismal sight, even in the comforting light of the fast rising sun, and brought back the memories of the battle they had fought to conquer the stronghold. And everything that had come of it, including the involuntarily journey through the Fade.

She was simmering inside, right now not knowing whether to scream out her frustration or to weep from misery. Or to do both. She was aware of the people starting to dismantle the trebuchets, probably the sappers from Jader, and the curious looks some of them were throwing her. She didn’t know if they recognized her, but even if they didn’t, it wasn’t wise to act like a bronto on a rampage. The last thing she wanted was drawing attention to herself.

She clenched her jaw and marched on, causing little whirls of sand with her stomping feet.

‘And to think I brought you a present to express my admiration for you,’ she seethed half out loud. ‘To think I brought you to my bed! Had I known you were stone at heart, absorbed with rigid duty and righteousness, I’d have kicked you down the stairs!’ Instead she kicked at a stone lying in her way.

Deep inside she knew she was acting unfair. Cullen had shown his love for her in many ways on several occasions, even in public, and as ultimate proof had jumped after her into the Fade. Between the anger and the sorrow, she felt a pang of remorse but dismissed it right away. His remark about personal not being the same as important had hurt, although she, grudgingly, had to admit he had a point with that statement. She also had to follow that unspoken rule because too much was at stake.

But what really had wounded her were his words that she should get into safety not because she was his woman but because she was the Inquisitor. It had sounded so stripped off all emotions and so cold-hearted. Just the memory was, even now, enough to bring about a stream of irritating pricking tears. Impatiently she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

When he had kissed her in Skyhold’s courtyard he had made her feel like a careless woman in love. With that remark he had pushed her back into the “Your Worship” department with all the attached responsibilities she had never asked for, but that weighted with the heaviness of the world itself on her shoulders. Of course, she knew it was her burden to carry and though it was difficult at times, she had accepted her fate as well as she could. She wouldn’t have bothered so much if it had been Leliana or Cassandra or even Bull who had pointed out that her first and most important duty was to save Thedas.

But to hear those words from him was like the equivalent of being thrown into a bathtub filled with icicles. Cullen was supposed to be her safe place; with him she could, now and again, forget about her title and everything that was attached to it. If he too started to vent those obvious facts, there was nowhere left to hide, not even for a few hours.

She turned and stared at the sturdy bulk of Adamant Fortress. As fortresses went, this was an impressive but not very attractive one. But then again, it wasn’t designed as a fancy palace by some Orlesian dandy to please his elegant _maîtresse_. It was built to keep the enemy out. _But no fortress can stand against treachery coming from the inside_ , Evelyn mused. And treachery it had been, no matter how you looked at it. Even taken into consideration the Grey Wardens had been all at sixes and sevens at that time, they had betrayed their own organisation and with it the whole world.

Determinedly Evelyn forced herself to concentrate on the reason why they had come here in the first place, instead of lingering on her frustration, lest she would lose herself as yet. If she had to be the Inquisitor and nothing but the Inquisitor, she better started acting like it. After all, everyone relied on her to give a verdict; she would be the one who was to decide on what to do with the surviving Grey Wardens. Even more lovely, the whole future of the organisation lay in her hands. Joy of joys. So she should sort herself out and return to Clarel’s office because she couldn’t play the judge out here on the dusty road. She started walking back to the stronghold with resolute strides and a back so straight it looked like she had swallowed a broomstick.

She was of the opinion Clarel had been dangerously gullible and she should have known better, or at least should have seriously weighed all the possibilities, before she handed her men over to the mercy of the Tevinter Imperium. And then there was that other, perhaps even more grave, fact of the Grey Wardens cooperating with Corypheus, holding the Divine captive. But who was she to condemn the Warden Commander for her actions? Could she truly understand the impact of the Calling? Was it something like the threat of a sweet whispered promise of a demon? Probably it was much worse. It was a promise of certain death. You could strengthen yourself against it and know it was inevitable; in the end, Evelyn imagined, it always came as a nasty shock. One thing she was sure of: the discussions would be tough and undoubtedly there would be a lot of shouting involved.

When she approached the gate, she saw Cullen appear from behind the battering ram and her heart skipped a beat. He looked distressed but she wasn’t intend to give in to the sudden wave of guilt that washed over her. She cut him short before he had the chance to say something.

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said curtly. ‘Not here and not now. We have more important things to deal with.’ Secretly, and rather wickedly, she enjoyed his expression that turned from distressed to devastated at her words. _Now you know how it feels to be slapped in the face._

‘Evelyn,’ he started clumsily, ‘I didn’t mean to-’

‘I _said_ not now!’ she snapped. She swept past him and entered the fortress, leaving him the choice to follow or stay behind. _Perhaps Fenris can teach him how to brood_ , she thought grimly. _Who knows it will work better to scare the demons off than a well-trained army._

-

Leliana looked sharply up when the door to the office opened and tried very hard to hide her disappointment when she saw Hawke and Fenris enter. She had cursed herself when the Inquisitor had stormed off. She shouldn’t have lashed out like that, she should instead have had a quiet talk with Cullen once they were back in Skyhold. She blamed it on her tenseness but that could never be an excuse. The atmosphere in the room had been despondent ever since, even after she had called for refreshments and everyone was silently drinking wine or ale to recuperate from their Fade experience. Varric had given her some kind of report but he had been quite flat, compared to his normal flamboyant behaviour. Even Dorian’s ceaseless babbling had dried up. He didn’t look half as self-righteous as he used to, but perhaps it was her own perception because she saw the world in dreary grey colours at the moment. It had been a testing night to all of them, and to top it, the others had been through a difficult trip in the Fade which had left its mark on their faces. Reluctantly her eyes swivelled to the mage Anders who had positioned himself in the shadows of a corner, and wondered what was going through his mind. Another serious problem to sort out. She wished Josephine were here; she would have handled this tight situation so much better.

She turned her attention to the former Champion of Kirkwall who still looked alarmingly pale. ‘Are you feeling better?’ She did her best to sound as friendly as possible, biting back her worries. ‘Please, take a seat. Both of you. And have something to drink.’

Hawke gave her a slight nod. ‘I’m fine. Thank you for asking.’ She let the nod follow by a tired smile. ‘Somewhat too much stress during the past months to my liking.’ She carefully lowered herself in an austere wooden chair and reached for a pitcher with water.

‘Maybe it could be –‘ Varric began in a cheery voice, but he faltered under Hawke’s murderous glare. ‘Or maybe not,’ he grumbled under his breath.

‘Where is the Inquisitor?’ Hawke informed, ignoring the dwarf altogether. Tired she might be, but still observant.

Her question got answered right away when the door opened anew and Evelyn entered, closely followed by Cullen, who looked as if the Nightmare they had escaped from had made a return exclusively for him. Leliana let out a silent sigh of relief, disregarding for the moment Cullen’s expression of naked suffering, and already opened her mouth to express some kind of an apology, but Evelyn stalled her by raising her hand. She came right to the point. ‘There are a lot of things we have to decide upon, but right now, I think, the most important issue is the fate of the Grey Wardens.’ Her wandering look rested upon Stroud, who stubbornly had refused to sit down and stood rigidly straight by the window. The morning sun laid a bluish hue over his black hair. ‘I take it you are the highest in rank around?’

Stroud shrugged. ‘I suppose I am.’

‘Does that mean the other Grey Wardens will follow your will?’

‘I don’t think they have another option,’ Stroud reacted rather mockingly. ‘Clarel is dead and Weisshaupt is a far way off. Besides that, I’m quite certain they will be relieved someone else will be taking the decisions out of their hands.’

Evelyn pursed her lips. ‘Right. I’m still struggling with what the Grey Wardens have done, as do you, I assume. No need to dwell on details and appalling images. But I’m of the opinion it will be much worse to dismantle the organisation than to let them exist. Who knows when the next Blight will hit Thedas. I suggest you will join the Inquisition. Under our supervision.’

‘You suggest we will bow to your command!’ Stroud flew up. ‘You suggest we abandon our independence and dance to your tune! How can you ask that?!’

Before Evelyn could give a heated response, Hawke interfered. She had stood from her chair and turned to face the Grey Warden. And her face didn’t look benevolent. ‘She can ask that because you have messed up big time and made a bloody poor case for yourselves. You can play the affronted party, and I just _know_ you’re on the brink of shouting how the whole of Thedas never understood, let alone appreciate, how you sacrifice yourself to keep us all safe from the darkspawn. Believe me, my brother just loves to throw those words into my face. In the meantime I know all about it. But even he will admit, when he learns about it, the Grey Wardens are responsible for the death of Justinia. And were in cahoots with Corypheus. And still you dare to protest.’

‘Yes, but,’ Stroud tried to put an aggravated word between her reasoning. But just as Varric he received a murderous, by now near deadly glare and fell abruptly silent. If there had been a way to escape through the window he had taken it.

‘Do you really believe the people of Thedas will take it as an excuse your mages were under the influence of a self-declared god, and thus were ready to murder their treasured Divine because they were not able to think for themselves?’ Sarcastically Hawke lifted an eyebrow. ‘Even if they would so, I fear that story will only lessen the already meagre goodwill. And do you think they are willing to forgive all the horrendous actions because the Grey Wardens were hearing the Calling and thus were afraid of dying??’ Her voice had obtained that special gritty tone she only saved for the occasions that really mattered to her. (Involuntarily both Fenris and Varric cringed.) She snorted derisively. ‘I’ve got news for you, Serah. _All_ of us are afraid of dying, especially in the present situation. Think again.’ When Stroud didn’t come with an answer, simply because he couldn’t compose an adequate one, Hawke continued relentlessly. ‘I would take the Inquisitor’s offer if I were you. It’s the best you can get. Not many people would be so generous under the circumstances.’

Stroud bowed his head and ground his teeth. Reluctantly he admitted the woman was right and he was defeated on all fronts. Or better, the Grey Wardens were. He looked up at Evelyn and stretched out his arms. ‘You can fetter my hands and take me prisoner if you like. I throw myself and the rest of the Grey Wardens at your mercy.’

Evelyn cocked her head, not totally persuaded if his intentions were sincere. Besides, she thought his gesture rather dramatically. Surrendering Orlesian style. ‘Just like that?’ She sounded as unconvinced as she looked.

‘Not just like that,’ Hawke said. She looked shortly at Anders who had been a Grey Warden once. And remembered all too well her brother’s haughty pride. ‘Many men and women joined the Grey Wardens. Perhaps not always out of the best intentions, but their dedication is beyond dispute. And they are a proud organisation. Handle them with care, Inquisitor.’

Evelyn looked from the former Champion, a woman she held in high esteem, to the sudden meek Grey Warden. She considered she could choose not to pay attention to what Marian Hawke had said. As she had put forward on earlier occasions, her title didn’t count any longer though she seemed to take that with admirable ease. _As if she is glad the burden no longer rests on her shoulders,_ Evelyn thought. She could understand that. _And yet she still feels the responsibility. Apparently you never get free of that._ Would she be like that, after they would have succeeded in slaying Corypheus? Would she go on caring for the world? She couldn’t tell right now but, looking at Marian Hawke, it seemed that sort of responsibility was like a kind of disease you never entirely got rid of. ‘I will try to heed your advice,’ she said, while pointedly staring at Stroud, ‘but we cannot take the risk of Grey Wardens running amok once more. So we will leave a complement of Inquisition soldiers behind. To make certain no-one gets it into their head to contact the Venatori.’

Stroud opened his mouth as if to utter a protest, but thought the better of it and said nothing. He realised he was no match for either women.

‘Cullen, can you see to that?’

The Commander hesitated just a heartbeat too long. ‘Do you, er.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Do you want me to stay behind?’

Evelyn could simply _hear_ the exertion with which he tried not to sound forlorn, and inwardly she rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not! You’re the Commander, we need you at Skyhold. I just want you to sort it out. Or better, to appoint someone who can do that. You know the men better than I do. You must know who is most suited for the task.’ She ostentatiously avoided looking at him. At the same time, beneath the thin layer of irritation, a feeling of guilt was agitated bouncing up and down, and a little voice inside her head screeched, _you’re acting like a complete and utter twat_! She ignored it.

Leliana saw her chance to put in a word in an attempt to ease the palpable tension between the Inquisitor and the Commander. ‘I recommend Captain Halbert. He is very capable, and keeps his head cool when it counts.’

‘Good,’ said Evelyn before Cullen could react. ‘That’s one problem solved. But there’s more trouble we have to deal with.’ Her eyes rested on Anders, who made a serious effort at mastering the art of invisibility in one go.

‘I will keep a close eye on him,’ Cullen offered.

‘Still not lost your Templar abilities?’ Anders couldn’t help saying, his cover given away anyway.

Dorian coughed delicately when Cullen didn’t reply. ‘I assume what our dear Commander means to explain is that he will do his utmost to keep you out of the clutches of one vengeful Seeker. I reckon she will not hesitate to disembowel you on the spot.’

‘There’s a woman you don’t want to meet in a dark alley,’ Varric agreed, ‘or even on a well lit grand boulevard. Compared to her, Aveline is an adorable fluffy puppy with floppy ears and a cute squeaking bark. I take it you get the picture. And then, maybe even worse, there’s the Iron Lady who will have you for breakfast without a second thought.’  – Fenris grimaced darkly at the memory of their encounter in Skyhold’s Great Hall. –  ‘Although, she will certainly use the right cutlery while she devours you, if that’s any consolation.’ He smirked broadly which only emphasised the dangers Anders was about to encounter.

Anders himself, in the meantime, looked bewildered from the Tevinter mage to the dwarf. ‘I understand I at least will have a choice of women,’ he muttered, ‘that’s something.’ He still felt light-headed and couldn’t’ decide whether it was due to the strange emptiness Justice had left behind or the outlandish situation he found himself in. He wasn’t sure he could cope with all this. With this unexpected turn of fate. And he certainly wasn’t looking forward to be dragged into a court and bombarded with accusations he wasn’t able to challenge. He was convinced his life was forfeit anyway and somehow wished he had stayed behind in the Fade. Death would be inevitable and he’d rather have died knowing that with his last act he’d saved the lives of others, than to be hanged like a traitor. His eyes drooped.

Fenris let out a deep sigh and stood from his chair. He turned to the mage and amazed everyone present, and Anders the most, by saying, ‘You stay with Marian and me. We will see to it no-one will pounce upon you. Be it with a sword, or with whatever knife Madame de Fer uses to handle her courses.’ He gave Cullen an apologetic smile. ‘You will be too busy with organizing the march back to Skyhold.’ _And with making amends with your woman_ , he added in the privacy of his head, because he had perceived the tension between those two as well. At the same time he sensed the light pressure of Marian’s fingers on his wrist, broadcasting her approval.

Anders stared wide-eyed at him. ‘You’re serious..?’ he said, hesitantly.

‘I am. But that I’m willing to defend you, doesn’t mean I will make your life easy.’ Fenris shook his head. There was a change in Anders he couldn’t deny, a change that made him questioning his former solid opinion that the mage was nothing but a dangerous warmonger with the blood of a whole city-state on his hands. Perhaps it was true Justice had been the evil genius behind it all and Anders hadn’t been able to stop him. Whatever the case, he wanted to keep him in sight. He suddenly realised his always faint shimmering fear Anders one way or another would drive a wedge between Marian and him, was gone. There was nothing to be afraid of, not even his past, after that gruesome confrontation in the Fade. And Anders was a simple speck of dust in comparison. He recognized right now the mage was the least of his problems. And thus, to his own amazement, he was willing to stand up for him.

Evelyn’s eyes lighted up. ‘I wished all of our problems would dissolve just like that,’ she said happily, although she fooled no-one present with this attitude. Stubbornly evading Cullen she went for the door. ‘I believe I better have a chat with Blackwall before he gets the wrong message and thinks the Grey Wardens have ceased to exist.’ Before she shut the door behind her back, she added, rather menacing, ‘Although I’m convinced he will listen to reason. He strikes me like a man who can make the difference between personal and important.’

Cullen winced visibly. What made it even worse, he knew everyone in the room had understood the nasty jab. And what it was about. The awkward silence that fell after Evelyn’s boisterous departure only underlined it. He felt as if he had let something precious slip out of his hands and he didn’t know how to put the pieces back together. It didn’t help he knew all the eyes were aimed at him. He had made a grave mistake although he didn’t understand about what precisely Evelyn was so angry with him. He had made it clear that he loved her, hadn’t he? She meant the world to him. He thought that was obvious, but apparently it hadn’t been enough. Somehow, somewhere, he had made a grave mistake. His shoulders slumped. ‘I will go and find Captain Halbert,’ he muttered helplessly.

‘I will go with you,’ he heard Leliana say. She sounded concerned and placed a comforting hand upon his arm. That did it.

A little spark of irritation lighted up in his chest, aimed at his lover. What was she thinking, bloody hell, acting like some spoiled toddler! And yes, _bloody hell_. No sweet Andraste this time. He had given her his soul and his love. He had bared his very essence to her and with one word, one sentence she didn’t like, she turned against him and treated him as if he had betrayed her. Without thinking he swatted Leliana’s hand away.

‘No,’ he grunted, the word forcefully pressed through his teeth, ‘I must do this on my own.’ At that statement he fled  the room and slammed the door shut behind him in a much more harsh way than Evelyn had done before him.

The awkwardness in the room grew until, finally, the Bull rumbled, ‘I bet they will have a hell of good make up sex this night.’

At that even Anders had to laugh.

Leliana wasn’t so sure, and thus slipped after Cullen while she thought the others didn’t notice her. Apart from the Tevinter elf. He seemed to notice everything. Did she have to deal with him? For a moment she held her breath when her brain did the calculation. No. He presented no danger. Sometimes she hated herself for _dealing_ with people instead of encountering them. Right now she felt for Cullen and scolded herself for scolding him. But in the end all that counted was the result.

She had become a cold and calculating person after ...

... there had been that Chantry in Lothering, the Hero of Ferelden ... and then the unexpected turn of the Left Hand. The Spy. It had changed her, and she was, up till this moment, still not certain her life had made the right move. But she had to live with it, hadn’t she..?

She followed Cullen a few paces more and then abruptly decided it had been enough. She needed sleep after this tiresome, trying night. She needed to relax and think over all that had happened in such a short time.

Just before she retired the thought overwhelmed her: she needed a lover, at least for one night. Or day. Or even afternoon. She was convinced that would lessen her tension more than a few hours of sleep could do. So, before she could reconsider her sudden impulse, her footsteps turned to where she knew she could discretely intercept the Bull. He was probably the only one who wouldn’t read anything special in her request, who wouldn’t make more of it than it was. The Qunari didn’t do romance. They just did sex. Right now, that suited her well.

-

She wasn’t aware of the person that, on his turn, followed her, which only accentuated her fatigue and troubled mind.

The person frowned deeply when she stopped the Bull and talked to him in a rather secretly manner that, however, left nothing to the imagination. He even frowned deeper when they walked off together in a determined way that could only mean one thing. He blew out some air and mumbled, ‘Right. I guess I have to make myself clearer. Even more so. Apparently Qunari have thicker sculls than I already assumed.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First note: To be honest, I didn’t like Stroud much. The way he acted unperturbed to what happened in the Temple of the Sacred Ashes and then tried to blame Hawke for the carnage in Kirkwall made my blood boil.
> 
> Second note: in the game everything between Cullen and the Inquisitor is sooo lovey-dovey it’s almost nauseating... It really made me long for a good old quarrel. Just to make their relationship a bit more interesting. DAI allows no opportunity for having a rivalry romance and I miss that. I admit, having a good shout at Fenris sometimes was really fun!
> 
> And, alright, the third one: Leliana always intrigued me. She irritated me, I hated her at times, but she is a fascinating character. She has developed into something between a nun and a reckless spy. Quite a combination.
> 
> And, as always, thank you for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me so long to post a new chapter. But I'm moving. That is, trying to change one home for another. That means lots of stress and lots of no internet. Maddening, but I can't change that. It's a new flat with all the attached nuisances of things not working. Forgive me!
> 
> Nevertheless, enjoy the new chapter.
> 
> Oh, before I forget: Dorian and the Bull get entangled in a romance. I think nothing too ecplicit but you never know nowadays.

Wintersend part 21

-

Josephine felt completely in her element. She was flashing about Skyhold, trying to be everywhere at once and almost succeeding.

A few days earlier a message had arrived, carried by a bird. A joyous message. The bird less so. It looked as unperturbed and as cool as permafrost but was, nevertheless, at once as pleased as a cat in a birdhouse when it was presented with a simple fish. Josephine herself had provided for the piece of tuna and had patted the bird on the head, all the while babbling happily about what a wondrous bird it was and how perky it moved about and how shiny its feathers where, till the beast got the impression it was, if fact, a lapdog.

Adamant Fortress was taken and the Inquisition had, as the ambassador already had hoped and even anticipated, been successful. And, to make it even more wonderful, without any casualties to speak of. If this didn’t call for a celebration, nothing would. So she had immediately sent out couriers to Val Royeaux to purchase the ingredients for a mind-shattering Wintersend party she couldn’t obtain here at Skyhold. They mostly included fireworks, fine wines and some specific herbs and spices, needed for the drinks and exquisite canapés she had in mind. She expected a cartload of sparkling cider at any moment now.

The kitchen staff, in the meantime, had learned to fear her twirling appearance that only brought about a new number of outlandish orders. Although, on the other hand, the cook had picked up the ambassador’s infectious enthusiasm and couldn’t stop musing about even more spectacular new recipes. She had even sneaked out of bed in the middle of the might to try out some sudden idea of a completely different pork-and-onion pie. With sweet paprika and a generous dollop of garlic. Garlic! Not months before she’d never thought that Orlesian eccentricity would rub off.

And between ordering fancy stuff from Orlais and pestering the kitchen, Josephine harassed Cabot, the bartender of the Herald’s Rest, to decorate the tavern, and egged on the soldiers who had stayed behind, to do the same with the rest of the fortress. She had driven people into the mountains to find the hazel boughs she wanted to garnish the rooms and garden with. And yet everyone was willing to forgive her, if only for the merry twinkle in her eyes and her infectious cheery laugh.

Every now and again, if she needed a breather and a moment to put her mind at rest, she went to the stables and climbed to the space where Blackwall had his private quarter. Then she allowed herself a little time, to inspect the bouquet of dried flowers on the pillow, to smell the faint scent of his body that still hung in the blanket, to hear the echo of his voice she could hear reverberate along the rafters when she closed her eyes.

Then she suddenly blinked to drive back the unwanted tears of longing and at the same time smiled at the prospect of his return – and his surprise at discovering the dried crocuses.

She counted the days. As did the whole of the castle.

 -

To his surprise the Iron Bull found Dorian standing outside the room in which he had helped Leliana forget about her trepidations for a few precious hours this afternoon. Although “standing” was a bad description for how the mage leant seemingly leisurely (and extremely elegantly, Bull couldn’t help noticing), against the wall, with his arms folded and his head cocked just that little askew to make the Bull come more than to attention.

‘I thought we had a marriage arrangement,’ Dorian said, his voice as casual as his posture. But Bull wasn’t fooled; he was very well aware of the tension the other male radiated, right through that flippantly uttered comment.

‘We did?’ He tried to sound light-hearted although the words spoken in the Fade flew back at him to hit him with the force of a sledge hammer. He frowned. Had Dorian meant it seriously..? That couldn’t be. Could it..? In that case he had promised him to go to Minrathous to announce to the noble Magister Halward Pavus he was set on marrying his son. Offering a box of chocolates the man apparently detested along the way. He cringed inwardly.

At the same time he couldn’t deny that Dorian, pouting and all, looked more than alluring at this very moment. The afternoon sun caressed his supple muscles and accentuated his well-built body. His deep brown eyes, glistening with discontent, pulled strongly at the strings of his heart. And he might favour redheads, at this moment the shining black of Dorian’s hair was so much more appealing. Unintentionally he blew out some air.

‘Yes, we did,’ Dorian carried on with that deep caramel voice that at this sudden weighty moment sounded wounded. ‘So I can only describe what you did with the Spymaster, whatever it was you did with the Spymaster, as adultery.’ His eyes flashed, as if to make clear he very well knew what had transpired. And of course he did.

Normally the Bull would, after such blatantly spoken words, burst into a fit of contemptuous laughter, but something held him back. He was stupefied the Tevinter mage really did sound and look hurt, but even more stupefied at how his own conscience reacted.  He ignored it. At least he tried to. With his words Dorian offered him an escape and he grabbed it with both hands. ‘If you have to guess at what went on – ‘

‘I don’t have to guess because I‘m a well educated man, as you should be aware of,’ Dorian cut him short. ‘I only tried to keep it civilised.’

With a click the Bull shut his massive jaw and remorselessly his conscience took the opportunity to make more amok in his head. Without any embarrassment it started grumbling  about guilt concerning the hours of shameless pleasure he just had had. That was crazy. Even more crazy were the feelings that suddenly reared all of their wicked heads and not only surprised him but, worse, left him totally confused. Not for one second he had believed Dorian had been serious back then. Because, honestly, when _was_ the man ever serious? And not for one other precious second would he have thought he would really develop something like romantic sentiments for the man lounging against a wall opposite of him.

‘I thought you meant it as a joke,’ he thus said weakly. But then he reinstated his usual laid-back and cool attitude. He attempted to look down along his impressive nose at the Tevinter mage who was visibly not impressed by that weak attitude. Nevertheless he added, against all odds, ‘And I _do_ hope you know we Qunari don’t do marriage arrangements? You’ve fought us long enough to at least pick up some peculiar things about our customs.’

Dorian stepped away from the wall and nodded thoughtfully. ‘You have a point,’ he said, ‘one that I can understand.’ He sent the Bull a bright but at the same time brittle smile and that brought the Qunari even more off balance. ‘We Dorians don’t take to marriage arrangement as well. But, unlike Qunari, we can occasionally become rather possessive. Perhaps I should have made my intentions more clear.’

Before Bull could react, Dorian had made his move. His hands cupped his face while his fingers lovingly traced the scar of the wound that had claimed his left eye and his lips determinedly descended upon his in a not to misunderstand way.

‘I want you,’ he murmured huskily, ‘and that has nothing to do with my father. It has all to do with you, you big idiot.’

‘Be careful what you wish for,’ Bull managed to grumble.

‘I know perfectly well what I wish for,’ Dorian replied in a hoarse, sultry voice before he crashed his lips again on the Qunari’s. ‘I like danger.’

It didn’t happen often the Bull felt completely helpless, but now he did. All the pictures of sultry redheads evaporated when he felt Dorian’s tongue slipping into his mouth and entangling with his. He couldn’t suppress a lustful moan. His hands started roaming Dorian’s lean body. Even the thought of having all those near to perfection honed muscles close at hand made him tremendously turn on. _And_ , a little voice at the background of his mind whispered, _his as sharply honed clever mind is even more a turn-on._

_‘Would you prefer me bound and leashed?’_

_‘I’d buy you dinner first.’_

_‘Hopefully before you sow my mouth shut.’_

_‘Depends on how much you keep yapping.’_

He couldn’t help thinking back at that particular idiotic banter while Dorian kept on kissing him and his hands roamed the skin of his back. At this very moment Bull wished for Dorian’s tongue to make more of those witty remarks while he, at the same time, fervently wanted that he’d carry on with his heated actions. He moaned some more. Deeper and louder. Gods, this felt good. _He_ felt good. Perfect, even. Without thinking he lifted Dorian and, while keep on kissing him, he stumbled backwards into the room, holding him as close as possible. Behind his back Dorian had the spirit to kick the door closed.

‘Sweetmeats,’ Bull grumbled, with a sudden flash remembering the other thing with which Dorian wanted to annoy his father. It was a stupid remark, he knew, but he was so bewildered that he was willing to try anything to get a solid foothold to reality before his mind would definitely make a leap out of the window. And he wanted to offer Dorian a last way out. _Does he really want this or is this his father shouting all through his brain?_ were his last thoughts before Dorian made an end to his doubt.

‘Not now,’ he groaned heatedly. ‘And I told you already this has nothing to do with my father, you big-headed, big-horned Qunari.’

Right. Time to take matters into hand. Literally.

‘I hope you’re not too attached to your fancy silk underwear,’ the Bull rumbled, just before he shredded Dorian’s smallclothes to pieces and got a firm hold on his satisfactorily hard cock.

‘Not at all,’ groaned Dorian. ‘Just keep this up,’ were his last words before he forgot all about eloquence, and speech, for that matter, when he got lost in the Bull’s fiery passion.

-

Without a clear purpose Evelyn wandered through Adamant Fortress. The place seemed to be wrapped in an aimless flurry of people running to and fro, while, in fact, the soldiers, commanders and quartermasters were busy with a neat retreat. The, at first sight, chaos was perfectly orchestrated and she felt useless. For once there was nothing she could undertake since this was definitely not her area of expertise.

Once or twice she bumped into Cullen, which was rather awkward because neither of them knew what to say or how to react.

In the end she decided to pay Hawke a visit. She craved for a chat and she still hadn’t had the opportunity to properly talk with her. _Well_ , she thought, _grab your chance. How may do you think you’ll get?_ In an instant she felt a lot better when she headed for the place where Hawke and her lover (and she couldn’t avoid a little snivel of jealousy at the vivid vision)  had taken their retreat.

She found her and Fenris, and Anders for that matter, in a room in what must be a half forgotten corner of the stronghold. Apparently they had taken the task of keeping Anders out of sight very seriously. Hawke was almost finished packing; She was trying, with all her muscles and sinews strained to the limit, to close the last pack while putting all her strength onto a too small belt and a clasp that probably wouldn’t hold. Fenris sat on the bed, pretending not to notice his lover’s agony (because knowing better), honing his sword. In the meanwhile he kept an eye on Anders, who sat fidgeting with his fingers on a low stool. The elf seemed to be prepared to react immediately if a sudden burst of fire or lighting would erupt out of said fingers.

‘How did you cope with it?’ Evelyn asked, after they had exchanged greetings.

Hawke looked up from the pack she was trying to close. ‘Cope with what?’

Evelyn made a helpless gesture that included Fenris, Anders, the fortress and probably the whole of Thedas.

Hawke suppressed a grin. ‘You’re referring at your little tiff with Cullen, aren’t you?’

‘That too,’ Evelyn confessed with a sigh, ‘but that’s not the only thing bothering me.’

Fenris stored the whetstone in one of the pouches of his belt. He stood from the bed and sheathed his sword in the scabbard on his back. ‘I’ll go talk to Cullen,’ he announced.

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Evelyn protested.

‘Yes I have,’ the elf said calm but determinedly, ‘because everyone is walking on eggs around the two of you, afraid one wrong word will cause an explosion.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Starting a good fight is easy enough. Ending one though ... that takes skill and experience.’

‘I take it you know all about it,’ said Evelyn, more snappish than she intended to.

The elf cast a short glance at his lover. ‘You could say that.’ The look in his silvery green eyes acquired a near mischievously twinkle while at the same time his little crooked smile became warm and loving.

The Herald of Andraste felt herself change colour as a green, timid mageling that had stumbled into something she wasn’t supposed to see. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

‘You didn’t,’ Fenris assured her while he passed her on his way out of the room.

Hawke smirked, ‘Oh, we had some good fights back in the day.’ She turned to Anders. ‘They mostly revolved around you, come to think about it. Around your pompous declarations, your Manifesto, your mere existence. Because I was the idiot who defended you. But I gather you already know that.’

‘I’m flattered,’ Anders reacted flatly. He was bored to shreds after sitting in this room for half a day and a whole sleepless night, and at the same time scared as hell about what was going to happen with him. Hence the sleepless night. Nevertheless he conjured up a half grin.

Marian turned back to Evelyn. ‘The good part, naturally, is how the fight ends. I suppose I don’t have to paint you a picture.’ _Her_ twinkle shot right through mischievous into roguish.

Anders started a spluttered protest. ‘Spare me the details!’

Evelyn cleared her throat. ‘Frankly, I’ve been wanting to ask you how you managed to be the Champion of Kirkwall. Without going mental.’

Marian looked pensively ahead. She let out a small sigh while she walked to the entrance and leaned against the doorpost. ‘Hmm. I think I got it easier. To begin, no one called me holy. I’m quite positive I couldn’t have stomached that.’

Evelyn made a face. ‘I don’t like it either,’ she said, almost apologetically.

‘And yet you take it with admirable grace. I suspect I would have started whacking people around the ears till they’d see sense.’

‘Trust me, I’ve been tempted more than once,’ Evelyn grimaced. ´It´s disturbing to see how keen people are on worshipping and it doesn’t matter who or what. I swear, if I were a capering, bad smelling retarded monkey, they would still want to fall on their knees before me! As a matter of fact, I met a bunch of dimwits who actually worshipped the breach in the sky!´

Hawke had to laugh at that. ‘People are afraid,’ she said mildly, ‘so they’re willing to believe anything, just to grasp a splinter of hope.’ She stared into the distance. ‘After the attack of the Qunari, and everything that brought about, it seemed every citizen was so afraid some bad things would happen again, they almost literally hung at my skirts.’

Anders snorted. ‘As if you ever wore any.’

‘Shush Anders, the adults are talking now. You know, the ones that actually try to solve the mess without murdering people. _Your_ mess, come to think about it.’

‘I’ve explained that’s not exactly accurate and besides that– ‘

Angrily Hawke turned around. ‘You blew up a building full of innocent victims. That’s more than accurate to me,’ she spat.

Anders cringed. ‘You know I regret that more than I can express.’

Hawke rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Anders, I know. Just, just be a good boy, will you,  and keep your mouth shut. I’m trying to have a conversation here, one that’s not about you. Because, and this will astound you, not _everything_ is about you.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Anders said meekly and Hawke repeated the rolling of the eyes.

‘Since Justice has taken his leave I really don’t know how to deal with you anymore,’ she murmured. She gave the Inquisitor a bright but fragile smile. ‘Where were we? Ah yes, The demanding subjects.’ She laughed when she saw Evelyn’s flabbergasted expression. ‘Forgive me the expression but sometimes it simply felt that way. The way they plainly refused to think for themselves and were expecting you would make all of their problems go away by waving your hand. Even Knight-Commander Meredith relied on me to deal with a delicate crisis of runaway mages.’ She shook her head. ‘Of course she just used me. But on the other hand I couldn’t blame her; everybody else did.’

Anders snorted as silent as possible at the memory of the Knight-Commander who had had the audacity of ordering the Champion, a well-known mage for crying out loud, to go after escaped mages who yearned for freedom. Till he remembered two of them had turned, in fact, into sorry blood mages. Yes, undoubtedly that had been due to Meredith’s reign of horror but there would never be an excuse for killing one’s own wife. He rubbed his face. It was still hard to separate Justice’s words and dangerous ideology from his own thoughts. He still expected at any moment some heated rant and, frankly, it was quite hard to think for himself. To remember the person he had once been.

Evelyn simply said, ‘And yet you survived without getting crazy.’

Hawke shrugged her shoulders. ‘I had a whole bunch of faithful friends who kept me on the right path. Without them I would have lost it.’ She bowed her head. ‘Especially after my mother – died,’ she said softly. She looked up again and removed an invisible speck of dust from her sleeve. ‘But as I recall, you have some good friends as well. One you even borrowed from me. He’s great, isn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ Evelyn admitted, ‘Varric is great. He often makes me laugh when I feel miserable. It’s a talent, I presume.’ She grinned at the image of his beaming face.

‘I know what you mean.’ Hawke let her eyes linger on Evelyn’s suddenly more cheerful face. ‘Never underestimate the importance of good friends, Inquisitor. They can be life-saviours in more than one way.’

‘Please don’t call me Inquisitor,’ the Inquisitor pleaded.

The former Champion of Kirkwall flashed her a brief but intense smile. ‘I just wanted your full attention. I know how to hate a title. But you get saddled with it and you can only try to make the best of it.’ She tapped her lightly on her wrist. ‘Friends, Evelyn, that’s what really counts.’ She thought for a moment. ‘And lovers, of course.’ She saw the other woman’s face flush in an interesting shade of red and suppressed a chortle. So this was how Isabela felt when she launched one of her numerous inappropriate remarks. And those were so much more saucy ... But, she reminded herself, Evelyn Trevelyan was a mage who was brought up and educated in a Circle. It was a sheer wonder she so easily had hooked up with Cullen. ‘Keep in mind Fenris and I have a, eh, history. Undoubtedly Varric made you read his Champion of Kirkwall story..?’

She observed the other woman’s face that radiated an even more interesting mixture of  colours. ‘Ehm, yes, I did.’

‘So, ‘ Hawke went relentlessly on, ‘you should know that, naturally, a lover’s tiff ends in a, how to put it...heated way.’

She got subtly interrupted by a male mage’s spluttered, ‘Spare me the details woman!’

Evelyn cleared her throat and smiled briefly. She looked away and started to chew on a knuckle. And then she blurted, ‘I thought he understood me.’ She looked pleadingly at Hawke.

Marian looked at her and said bluntly, ‘Ah, yes. Like I thought Fenris did and then I had to face his deep fears and sudden returning memories he couldn’t cope with and left me in the middle of a night I thought was perfect. And then I had to kill a Magister who had held him in his claws for the most of his life and even then he only with much reluctance came back to me. Not because he didn’t love me, understand, but because he was battered and bruised and scarred with his history. And afraid to disappoint me. I had to learn to cope with that. _He_ had to cope with learning I perhaps didn’t understand everything he had had to undergo, but was _willing_ to understand.’ She smiled as if lost in a dream. ‘He came to me when I lost my mother. He said he didn’t know what to say but wanted to be there for me. He just sat next to me. He was there for me. It was the most beautiful thing he could have done for me. That’s what counted.’ She cocked her head and added, almost inaudible, ‘And he wasn’t even aware of how much that meant to me at that moment.’ Her face twisted and for a moment it seemed she would break into tears.

But then she turned to the woman standing next to her and she was as composed as ever.

Evelyn wasn’t. Yes, she had read the book and, yes she had been moved. By the woman Varric had made his heroine. But now she felt hurt and annoyed. Hawke was too perfect, too good to be true. How could she ever understand her?! How could she ever match her?!

‘That’s all fine for you to say,’ Evelyn piped up in a shrill voice, swallowing back angry tears, ‘but you and Fenris have already sorted it out.’ She made a wild gesture with her arm, almost smacking Hawke in the face, and aiming wildly at the scenery of the eye-blistering too bright blue sky and the mind-numbing hot sand that surrounded the fortress. Tears were gathering in her eyes. Irritably she bit them back. ‘He didn’t throw into your face that personal wasn’t the same as important.’ She almost crumbled at the memory. ‘He wouldn’t have been there for you when your mother had died if that had been the case,’ she added viciously.

She could hear Anders stifle an upcoming giggle and it made her livid. Until she felt Hawke’s hand upon her arm.

‘Cullen was a Templar,’ the former Champion softly said. ‘Has been for a very important part of his life. Varric told me he greatly suffered, back then, in the Fereldan Circle. When it was in an uproar and he was caught in a magical prison.’ She looked intensely at her. ‘You knew?’

Suddenly Evelyn felt very weak. ‘I knew.’ She chew her lip. ‘He told me.’

Hawke saw her face twist in agony and gently took her hand. ‘Share a glass of wine with me.’

Evelyn followed her, her heart twisted in pain and guilt.

I wanted him to be my save haven,’ she whispered. ‘To be the one I could be with to forget about the “Inquisitor” and “Herald of Andraste” nonsense for a short time. To be myself.’ She clenched her jaw. ‘And then he started to blather about that nonsense about, you know, and to top it he yelled I should survive because was the only one who could seal the rifts. Not the one who held his heart.’ She took a hasty gulp of wine to hide her tears. ‘ And I felt so utterly alone,’ she added. She took another gulp. ‘You were there. You heard him.’ Her knees gave way and she sobbed some more. ‘That’s what I am to him: a green spot to close rifts.’

Hawke took her arm and lead her to the bed where she sat her gently down. She topped up the glass in her trembling hand.

‘Sounds like Fenris,’ muttered Anders.

‘You, big boy, you talk like a toddler,’ Hawke chided him mildly. She wasn’t surprised he beamed back. ‘You men, all the same. All pestering us women with your stupid feeble problems to keep us awake at night.’

‘And you wouldn’t have it any other way,’ Anders beamed.

Hawke glared daggers at him. ‘Don’t push your luck, mage,’ she growled.

Anders dived back into his shadow. ‘I wouldn’t dare,’ he murmured.

While exhaling a breath of air, Marian turned to Evelyn. ‘Right,’ she said brightly, while she poured herself a glass of wine, ‘how much do you imagine I thought Fenris was busying himself with his own trepidations when he left me for his memories and the fear of that creepy magister?’

Evelyn, completely taken offhand,  hesitated. ‘Is this some kind of test?’

Hawke looked up from her glass of wine and smiled. ‘You could call it that. You have suffered, he has suffered, I have suffered. Perhaps he more than you. Or me than him or the other the other way around. That´s not important. What _is_ important is that you try to understand each other.’

She cocked her head and then put a hand to her brow. She sat down. ‘You know,’ she said, trying to keep a sweet smile, ‘I’m so fed up with fights and rows and falling apart.’ She shot Evelyn a tired smile. ‘Right now Fenris is trying to repair the damage you have done. And with you I mean the both of you. To try to let you speak to each other again, while _I_ think, they’re both adults and educated And well thinking people. They’ll manage. They can sort it out. But Fenris is the caring sort and if it’s one thing he can stand, it’s a fight.’ She sniffed lightly and for a moment let her thoughts go adrift. ‘He can’t stand falling apart. For someone so eloquent and well educated you’d think he’d like a good debate. But he just craves for peace and quiet’

She shot the Inquisitor a rather nasty grin. ‘Yes, I´ve heard the words and the accusations, and, yes, I can imagine you´re upset. On the other hand,’ and at those words she gave the rather befuddled Inquisitor a nasty smile, ´please, lady, sort yourself out. My own man is, at this very moment, trying to solve your row. Perhaps you could give him a hand.’

And at that moment, and not even out of the blue, Evelyn realised she had been behaving like a spoiled tit. She turned to Hawke and took a deep breath. She gave her a resolute smile. She drowned her glass, dropped the vessel, embraced Hawke warmly, waved at Anders in his self-inflicted dark shadow, and fled the room.

They both stared after her.

‘She will hurl herself into another fight within no time, will she?’ said Anders from his obscure corner.

‘I’m afraid so, yes,’ Hawke mused. And then she became attentive. “I told you to shut your mouth.  I can hone blades too, you know!’

‘Please don’t!’

-

Fenris found Cullen in the middle of the fray of a neatly retreating army. He tapped him gently on the arm. Beating about the bush wasn’t his style. On the other hand, he knew other people would fled by his straight approach, but was quite certain Commander Cullen wouldn’t be one of them. So he approached him rather bluntly.

‘Commander? We have to talk.’

Cullen swirled on his feet to face the handsome unreadable Tevinter elf and felt his guts clench.

‘Alright,’ he breathed, ‘but not here.’ He had a nasty suspicion what this was about and he was not looking forward to the confrontation.  But he would endure everything for her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the confrontation between Dorian and the Bull. I was set on making them a couple from the start. I just needed a good opportunity to make it right.
> 
> I don’t know exactly how much older Hawke is than Evelyn, or how young Evelyn is, for that matter, but I think the Champion has much more life-experience than the Inquisitor. Correct me if I’m wrong.
> 
> And, of course, thanks so much for reading!!


End file.
